


Monster Between Wings

by TuxedoGal



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst, Blood and Injury, Emotional Hurt, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Family, Friendship, Hate to Love, Love/Hate, M/M, Magic, Minor Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, Slow Burn, Violence, dragon people, dragon tendou, dragon! Tendou, hybrid dragon, more like enemies to acquaintances to comrades to lovers, tendou is a prisoner in the beginning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:42:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 49,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23954044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TuxedoGal/pseuds/TuxedoGal
Summary: King Ushijima is handed a dragon person as a present of good faith for a new alliance between countries. His name is Tendou Satori and it's said he can work miracles.
Relationships: Tendou Satori & Ushijima Wakatoshi, Tendou Satori/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 109
Kudos: 162





	1. The Treaty

**Author's Note:**

> To signal a flashback you will see three black spades: ♠...♠...♠ (the symbols are before the flashback)
> 
> When there are no symbols and instead there is an ellipsis (...) then it is still present time.

♠...♠...♠

It is said the ancestors of humanity were once blessed with magic. Rulers would use this magic to defend their land, control its people, and defeat their enemies all in one breath. Legends say the Gods were not pleased with this, and so they sent monsters to kill us for our arrogance.

Our ancestors told stories of how the cursed monsters controlled human bodies, pretending to be like one of us, but weren't at all. They had wings, bird-like talons for nails, and teeth that were sharp as knives, perfect for ripping up flesh. The monsters kept devouring and the magic no longer worked as it used to, since the people were afraid of the consequences to wielding it. 

They had no faith in their own abilities and threw all their knowledge away to protect themselves. The tales written by humanity’s ancestors say all the spell books were burnt and the monsters would devour any people who still used magic.

And so, the reign of magic had fallen to the depths of the earth. Unseen and forgotten. 

If a potential magical being was found again, humans brought their pitchforks having learned from their ancestors' mistakes. 

Ushijima’s mother, the Queen, stated this tale to him as a child every night he couldn’t fall asleep in fear of monsters lurking under his bed. The Queen would say this story as she combed his hair back from his face, a warm presence over him that caused his eyes to droop unconsciously. She’d end her fairytale by telling him that people will always drive away the darkness underneath our beds. 

That the monsters could not hurt us any longer now that the magic is gone.

....

Ushijima is tired, dirty, and hungry as the sun begins to set on the west, where home is waiting.

He isn’t allowed home yet despite the terrible ache in his left shoulder from wielding his sword in battle against the tiny Kingdom of Hama, a country to the east of Shiratorizawa. So tiny in fact, it only has two cities within its borders. 

The night before, Ushijima and the Kingdom of Hama’s ruler, Saito, had finally agreed upon a treaty that favoured both sides and the current young King of Shiratorizawa was relieved to return home the following day. The trip home would’ve been long, at least three weeks time to arrive back, and so most of his troops were eager to start leaving as soon as possible. But after the night’s rest, their preparations were going far too slowly, as if their energy had been physically drained from them over the past weeks of campaigning against Hama. 

By the late afternoon, Saito had requested a meeting of diplomacy at nightfall that Ushijima could not refuse. Afterall, they had already signed the papers of the treaty, which was in Ushijima’s favour due to this Kingdom’s previous breakage of Shiratorizawa’s border rules that spurred on this campaign in the first place. 

King Saito proposed a show of good faith and apology, by handing Ushijima a gift in return for his leniency when handling the treaty. The man also claimed he will never forget such graciousness in Ushijima’s choices of ceasefire in the years to come.

Ushijima does not know why this man is groveling instead of fighting for control and is thus suspicious of such an odd request. Especially at such an inconvenient time. But he will meet the man, if not to get the formalities over with so that he can allow his diplomats to take care of the rest as he returns back to his Kingdom in a march of victory. It would be similar to the marches his mother once held, such as when she had acquired more land for Shiratorizawa’s reign. Even though Ushijima was only a toddler, he still recalls how loud the drum beats resounded and the high shouts of the knights while they banged their swords against their shields, with grime still staining their armor. The coming return this time will not be nearly as grandiose in its glee, since the result was only a peaceful treaty rather than a full takeover characteristic of Shiratorizawa during his mother’s reign.

As Ushijima contemplates those memories of golden and maroon banners on the streets of his homeland, his dark brown eyes fixate on the horizon where the sun melts from his sight to the edges of the muddy road pillowed in half-melted snow. He suddenly hears the clanking of armor and chainmail tinkling against the curved edges of a chestplate and assumes one of his knights has come to retrieve him for the meeting. 

Ushijima keeps his gaze on the sun shifting. He sighs, “Is it all ready?” 

With a quick glance to his right side, he recognizes his head knight and first guard, Ohira Leon in the way he stands, broad shoulders pin-straight and chin jutting out forward as if ready to face any form of altercation before him. The man’s russet-brown skin glows from the lighting of the orange tinged sky, bringing out the orange-red undertones in his face. Ushijima looks back to the horizon and Leon explains how the preparations were finished. 

“We’re ready to go at the order, your Majesty.” 

Before two pairs of eyes, the sky begins to turn a cold blue once more. The nightfall would bring the near freezing temperatures of mid February. Ushijima would have to bear his maroon cloak over his shoulders to ensure his comfort. If his mother were here she’d have scolded him for bearing the cold for so long. The memory of her roughly throwing her cloak over his head in retaliation of his refusal to obey her request causes him to shake his head in a tiny smile. 

Leon says, “What are you thinking of, Ushijima?” 

The two of them may not be equals in rank, but they are close to one another. Their fathers being comrades in arms is the main reason for their friendship. But the years spent training alongside one another in their teenage years solidified their trust in each other, so sometimes Leon will address him as he used to when they were younger. Even if it is considered disrespectful to onlookers, the two hold nothing but respect for one another.

Ushijima says, “Nothing at all. Tell Shirabu to call Goshiki so he can tag along with us as well.”

“Goshiki!” Leon utters, “The rookie? Are you sure that’s a good idea for this serious meeting? You know Shirabu won’t be pleased, he’s going to complain.”

Ushijima nods and unconsciously the corner of his mouth tugs up at the thought of Shirabu’s petulant look when Leon gives him the order. “Yes, I’m certain. The kid deserves a reward for how great he fought out there.” 

Goshiki is the youngest knight in their court at the moment, only sixteen years old and Ushijima can’t recall if he could’ve fought as ferociously as Goshiki did when he was that young of an age. At the age of twenty, Ushijima somehow feels much older, despite there not being much of an age difference between them. Even with such an insignificant age difference, most of the knights referred to Goshiki as the “tiny kid” with a swing harsher than steel. But Goshiki is still in training. When it comes to duties that require finesse or discretion, he's out of his element. So he’s often told to shadow Shirabu, Ushijima’s second guard, who absolutely hates listening to the kid's excited ramblings of being chosen to protect the King.

“Can’t argue with that. The kid could truly do a number on anyone we face,” Leon comments and he shakes his head with a low sigh, “the speed he’s learning at is almost scary, to be honest.” 

Without any words exchanged, the two men pivot around in unison, walking back to camp at a leisure pace. Sticks crack under their feet as they walk into the forest’s depths. Their walk won’t be very long, since their camp is only about thirty yards from the spacious dirt road Ushijima had wandered to. They camped closer to the edge of the forest this time for convenience of easily accessing the main road to Hama’s city of Elleena. They no longer needed to be subtle in choice of their camp after agreeing to the treaty.

“Goshiki will be ecstatic. He’s been dying for a promotion since we got here,” Leon says as he ducks under a low branch from an oak tree lightly coated in melting snow. Bits of the flakes slide off the wood and onto his armor in the process, and Ushijima who follows behind his comrade catches the ends of the dusty white snow. They fall onto his short olive brown hair that parts neatly to the left side. 

He can assume by Leon’s casual tone, it’s an attempt at idle conversation. Ushijima grunts in acknowledgement, not one to speak very much when his mind is busy contemplating the many possibilities of betrayal that could emerge at this meeting. 

Saito allowed him to bring as many people as he wanted to escort him, but Ushijima knew the other knights of his court must rest for their long journey back home, so his choices were limited to those he trusts most. Choosing his top two knights, Leon and Shirabu, along with the promising Goshiki, to act as his defensive force should be enough backup in case the meeting goes awry. The three would follow Ushijima’s direct orders perfectly and that assures him of a certain victory no matter the situation that can emerge. Ushijima’s parents had trained him well on how to lead their comrades to safety in times of danger. Decisions such as this one are Ushijima’s bread and butter day by day.

Walking past a thick tree, the two men see the beige tents of their camp littering the grass of the field. In front of these tents, there are three horses decked in soft riding gear with the colours of their Kingdom, instead of their usual war-armored plates. Shirabu stands at the steed’s side, holding a bundle of fabric in his arms, along with Kawanishi Taichi who seems to be avoiding his responsibilities if the way he leans against the horses is anything to go by. 

At the sight of their King returning, Taichi scampers off with a bucket of water to the fire at the center of camp where knights are working on preparing a well-deserved meal. Shirabu doesn’t spare the retreating boy a second glance. He turns to his approaching King with an eager expectation.

Ushijima pats his chestnut coloured horse’s neck affectionately and as if the knight is telepathic, Shirabu hands Ushijima his maroon cloak with a furry white trim at the top. The king wordlessly takes the item and begins placing it over his shoulders while Leon orders Shirabu to retrieve Goshiki. The response is immediate, “you’re joking, right?”

“No, I’m not. King’s orders. Goshiki is coming with us.”

Ushijima watches as Shirabu’s eyebrows curl into stressed wrinkles onto his forehead. He seethes, “Sure, why not.” Shirabu roughly shoves riding gloves into Ushijima’s hands and says, “I’ll go get him.” 

He stomps away, his improperly cut bangs swooshing over his eyes and thighs moving haughtily to a fast rhythm. Ushijima and Leon exchange a mutual look of amusement before they begin mounting their steeds.

....

True to Leon’s prediction, Goshiki cannot contain his excitement.

He babbles on without rest as Shirabu simmers to the left of Goshiki at the rear of their tiny group, while Ushijima leads them down the road’s path on his sturdy horse. So far Goshiki has found multiple topics to speak of, including how his toes may be stuck together from how cold they were. Which Shirabu blithely told him to keep to himself, despite the older knight’s own obvious shivering in the winter air. Ushijima kept getting pulled away from his internal worries in favour of listening to the ramblings of Goshiki talking everyone’s ears off. 

As they trot forward, the puffs of white exhaling from his own mouth as well as his horse's nostrils leaves the air smoky for seconds, then clear once more. Thankfully, it does not begin to snow again as it did in the morning. Though winters were not as harsh here as they were up in Seijou to the North of them. Those lands were said to be twice as cold, and the simple cloaks only lined in fur were insufficient protection up there. Here, in Hama of the East, their thinly lined cloaks are warm enough to withstand the cold.

Shirabu blows on his reddening fingers, having forgotten his own riding gloves despite remembering Ushijima’s pair. The King had offered him his own gloves twice, but both times Shirabu had refused. How impolite would it be to ask for a third time? Ushijima doesn’t want to risk any of his knights being unreliable if a battle is to come from this meeting. It’s a perfectly logical worry, really.

Leon slows down his elegant white gelding and silently hands Shirabu one of his gloves with a serious expression that is irrefusable. Ushijima now understands the solution to his concern: one cannot hand Shirabu both gloves because the younger man would refuse once again, thinking the action is an insult to his strength. This is why Leon only hands him a single leather glove. 

Shirabu gently takes it with a nod, slipping it onto his right hand artfully. The light brown haired knight rides without any issue despite his motions because of their leisure pace to King Saito’s castle, partly visible between the ghastly trees blocking the path. The castle is so unassuming Ushijima would prefer to call it a manor rather than a King’s court. Its stones are badly tended to, foliage growing across it’s torn edges, like prickly wooden arms. Recent fires from Shiratorizawa’s arrows have caked the stones with a sooty black film. The castle walls would blend into the dark of the night if it weren’t for the thin layer of snow sitting over its roofs. 

The only grandiose touch to King Saito’s castle is fancy flags donning Hama’s pink crest, an image of the country’s native cherry blossom trees emblazoned onto them. They turn a corner and the castle's pink banners are yards away. Cherry blossom crests move hollowly in small bursts of wind. The pathway to the castle is dead of any form of life, except for the torches glinting past windows. A tiny promise of soon-to-be warmth to their fingertips.

As they approach the small structure, Goshiki mutters, “It feels different without rushing in on a war cry, huh?”

Leon surmises, “Sure does.”

Shirabu rides up to the front, on Ushijima’s left side. He reassures, “You made the correct decision, your Majesty. Saito has nothing to gain from starting another fight, it’d be pure suicide.”

Goshiki exclaims, “Wow, Shirabu-san, what a poetic line!” 

“I’m not trying to be poetic, I’m stating the facts you fool,” Shirabu argues back over his shoulder. “Please stop interrupting my conversation with the King.”

“Oh. Sorry, Shirabu-san,” Goshiki says, his voice deflating. 

Leon slows down his horse’s pace to keep the boy company, asking Goshiki a question Ushijima cannot hear over his horse’s hooves and Shirabu’s continued remarks. The younger man keeps complimenting Ushijima’s skills and he nods in agreement to every word. At the end of Shirabu’s speech, he tells him, “Thank you for those words. But I don’t require a pep talk to walk into a diplomatic meeting.” 

“Of course not, it just felt necessary. Considering how strange the circumstances are,” Shirabu says with a shrug.

“Strange, how so? Is it that strange for me to want to watch the sunset as I think?” 

Shirabu shakes his head. “No, I meant the gift. I overheard two knights of King Saito speaking in whispers, you know how great my eavesdropping skills are. They spoke of magic from what I could hear, so I thought that’s why you were hesitant to go.” Ushijima stiffens in his saddle at those words, shoulders pushing back unconsciously. Shirabu pulls his eyebrows together, picking apart the puzzle before him in Ushijima’s reaction. 

He continues, “I thought you knew.”

Ushijima reveals, “I didn’t know. But my intuition was on the nose, I was very hesitant to say yes. Ultimately, I still agreed to receive the gift.”

“It will be alright, your Majesty. With us here, there is nothing to worry over.”

The King of Shiratorizawa hopes it will be as Shirabu says, because the other outcome is much too grim to contemplate on such a peaceful ride to their destination.

♠…♠...♠

The first time Ushijima saw a magical being was the glimpse of a sweltering burnt corpse, covered in soot and smelling of rotten flesh. The blood had dried to the ground and the corpse looked like a piece of coal if it weren't for the grey tones of previously living human skin.

Ushijima can only recall a brief glimpse of that revolting image and the complete terror he felt at the sight, locking him in place. The loss of life in those unmoving eyes, dead-straight onto Ushijima’s tiny form. He remembers that brief panicked moment of recognition before his mother pushed her cape over the view with a swipe of her arm, her sword glinting against the sunlight. 

Ushijima was then only met with the reassuring sight of Shiratorizawa’s maroon fabric, familiar to all members of the court who wear various shades of dark purple, to maroon accents. She peered over her shoulder down at him, incredulous at his Dad for bringing Ushijima out here to see the dead mage. 

Her dark eyes stared down at Ushijima. "You shouldn't see this." 

Ushijima shook his head. He didn't want to be left out, nor be seen as less capable of witnessing the results of war. But his mom was an adamant Queen. The King took Ushijima to the side and held his hand. Ushijima kept trying to look back but the burnt body was blocked by the burgundy cape of his broad mother and the Knights at her side all equally armed.

Later, he learned that the magical corpse was not a mage, but a dragon who took the form of a human to trick us, just as in the legends. His father told him not to worry, that it was the last of its kind.

“They can’t hurt us any longer.”

Ushijima learned two things that day. How badly a corpse smelled. And to never trust a dragon person.

...

A servant escorts them to meet with King Saito, his Marshal, and his Head Knight for a warm meal of turkey legs and ale. Walking down the empty halls, the decorations and paintings are dated in comparison to Shiratorizawa’s constantly changing decor. Goshiki makes squeaky noises at every turn they make, pointing at pots and statues as if all the previous high art he has seen wasn’t as compelling as these rudimentary pieces. Ushijima finds most of them unmoving, but he has gone to far too many Kingdoms to recall the minuscule differences in painting technique. As the group walks down the last hall, two servants whisper between themselves. The shorter man is holding a mop, and the taller servant beside him is bending down to scrub at dirty stones with a soapy brush.

“I heard their Queen is crazy and roams the castle at night, like a ghost.” The short one taps the mop against the same wall the other man scrubs to gain his attention.

“That wicked lady deserved it, for disobeying her King.”

The two men notice Shiratorizawa's King’s presence and bow deeply. 

Shirabu hisses as a feline does, his teeth bared. “How dare you insult his Majesty.”

Ushijima waves a hand. “Don’t waste your breath, Shirabu. It’s fine.”

He says, voice wobbling, “but it’s really _not_.”

Leon pulls him by the arm, “come on. Dinner is more pressing.”

“Maybe for you, but I don’t allow our Queen to be spoken ill of.” He pushes Leon’s grip on his forearm with his left hand, but he ultimately listens to Leon’s order by stalking away from the shaking servants that are likely nearly pissing themselves at the prospect of being caught misspeaking of a King’s mother.

Ushijima doesn’t pause his movement at the front of their group. He shrugs, “If I let every stranger’s rumors annoy me, I’d get nothing done. What they speak behind our backs does not define us at all.” 

If the people have not said these words to his face, then he’ll spare them no attention. A person who believes obtuse rumours isn’t likely to find the truth as interesting to their mundane lives. Another servant waiting at the two warm chestnut doors bows and opens them for King Ushijima and his chosen knights.

Goshiki gives the two gossiping servants the stink eye and Leon forcibly shoves the young knight into the grand hall with a deft kick to his behind.

....

When King Saito toasts to Ushijima for the third time, the stoic King refrains from pinching the bridge of his nose to compel his oncoming headache away.

It didn’t help that the weather often encourages coughs and runny noses. He is surprised to have avoided any repercussions throughout this campaign. Though Leon and Shirabu always tell him he’s the type to never realize he’s sick until he’s falling over from it and that often enough he pushes physically past tiny bouts of sickness using physical willpower alone. Ushijima prefers to think he just never gets sick very easily, due to the castle cooks healthy meals and his appropriate dressing. 

The tired King sips on the large chalice King Saito hands him. It’s the third one already and he hopes that Saito has prepared rooms for them to sleep in, for the festivities have pushed far too late into the night for Ushijima to foresee them returning back to camp. He may have to push their schedule of departure to the afternoon rather than the morning to take account for the sheer amount Saito wastes time in conversing.

The said talkative King continues his idle compliments of Leon’s fighting abilities. The said Knight nods his head at the correct moments as King Saito swoops his arms around to gesticulate folly sword movements. A servant nearly gets swiped in the face as she refills Saito’s chalice with another cup of ale. 

Leon is far too polite around royalty to change the topic to the gift they are expecting to receive and Shirabu is busy pleasantly talking to the Head Knight of Hama, who is far calmer than Saito to an extreme degree. Ushijima supposes someone must be the calm one to properly defend a castle to the length of time Hama was able to despite its tiny size. He acknowledges a fellow strategist when he sees one, but it is saddening for him to be wasted by such an easily rowdy King. 

Goshiki sits quietly to Ushijima's right because of the young King's request. It was mainly to keep Goshiki out of sight from Saito's direct gaze, so he sits between King Saito and Goshiki. At first, the boy was nervously handling the silverware in confusion until Ushijima discreetly pointed at what proper utensils to use. Now the young Knight is busy stuffing his face, eyes glowing at the large portions of meat in front of them. Ushijima thinks it is a tiny relief that two people are not speaking loudly on both of his sides in unison.

When the servant refills Ushijima’s chalice once more, he cuts into Saito’s conversation with Leon. “It is getting late, Saito-san. And my Knights are quite tired from preparing for tomorrow’s departure.”

“Yes, of course. My apologies Ushijima-sama. Your gift will be brought at once!” Saito’s dark brown bangs that half fall over his eyes, are pushed to the side by his left hand as he speaks. He waves his other arm to the Marshal who promptly wipes his face upon his serviette before he rises from his heavy wooden seat. The man bows to his King before leaving to retrieve the gift.

“Thank you for your hospitality, King Saito,” Leon adds to the silence whilst Ushijima ponders the potential gift Saito will express towards them. Perhaps it will be a cherry blossom tree to plant in their castle gardens as a physical reminder of their Kingdoms' treaty.

“It is of no issue, Ohira," Saito replies. "Rooms are already prepared for all of you. Just spare me a couple more moments to present this gift to honour Shiratorizawa."

Shirabu says, "These are quite great lengths to go to for presenting us with a gift." He raises his eyebrow in half question to Saito's grandiose intentions. Ushijima quietly smiles behind his cup at the offhand remark. 

Saito roughly downs the rest of his ale and slams the chalice onto the smooth wood of the chestnut table. "You won't be disappointed," he asserts with a wide grin that exposes his chipped canine tooth. His large dark eyes have an extreme glee in them that seems unwarranted for a small gift and Ushijima's mind echos _magic_ swiftly whispered as Shirabu hastily did on their ride over here. The young King's stomach drops, thick as stone when the doors begin to open upon the Marshal who pulls someone's thin pale arm along with him. 

A soot covered lanky man who slouches is half-dragged into the spotless room. A dirty stain to the luxurious setting. Ushijima hears the startled gasps of Shirabu and Leon across from him. Goshiki accidentally topples a cup with his elbow and it clatters awkwardly onto Ushijima's empty plate. Goshiki would usually apologize but the heavy silence of the room has him clacking his teeth together to control a loud outburst in this presentation of a gift.

At first, Ushijima thinks Saito is handing him a servant boy, but the man is too dirty. Then he thinks he’s a captured member of the Seijou’s royal court, which Saito knows they do not quite get along with. But why would Saito declare another war after just escaping one by the skin of his teeth? 

The man is a confusing gift that Ushijima had not expected at all. The surprise of such a strange gift may have been worth the extraneous dinner, in hindsight. Ushijima had been expecting a fancy statue emblazoned in gold or silken sheets or even a stereotypical cherry blossom tree to place somewhere in their castle grounds. Not such an unconventional gift as this, that leaves confusion in everyone's eyes. 

Even with the mention of magic, it is more likely to present a rare magical artifact rather than a person with starkly thin limbs covered barely by his half ripped garments of cotton clothes. Due to his hunched position, Ushijima notices the man has strange speckles of dark red in odd shapes from his collarbones to the back of his neck, underneath his crimson hair. The marks almost look like scab wounds from a previous head injury, but their placement is odd, especially in how many of these strange wounds the man seems to have.

King Saito joins the Marshal by the dirty man's side. Ushijima questions why the presented man hasn't said anything but realizes he has a white cloth tied loosely around his mouth. He hadn't seen it at first due to how the man keeps his head bent to the ground, unwilling to raise his eyes to his surroundings. 

Saito waves his arms in exaggerated arcs and presents Ushijima a dramatic bow along with the words, "In honour of Shiratorizawa's valiant actions during the treaty I present King Ushijima and the Kingdom of Shiratorizawa with a thoughtful gift of thanks."

King Saito raises his torso afterwards, pushes his shoulders back and exclaims, "a magical dragon! He’s completely free for your taking and ownership, your Majesty!"

As soon as King Saito had spoken the word dragon, the man's head snapped up in a sudden shock of action. Fiery hair that defies gravity whips up at the rushed motion of his head. The stranger’s expression is hard to read with the white fabric covering his mouth. His hands are chained tightly together by iron and his fingers twitch against his own palms, scratching messily. Pointed black coloured nails slide over one another in restless movement. Ushijima is uncertain if they are painted as he has seen some concubine women wear their nails or if the colouring is permanent. 

Peephole sized eyes, far too wide, and blood-red stare straight into Ushijima’s gaze, meeting his own observation directly as if in silent challenge. 

Blinking slowly, red eyelashes fan long shadows over freckled cheeks dirtied in brown dirt and black soot similar to the soot covering the stone walls of the castle. Most notably is the hunch of his shoulders and the pointiness of his long limbs. His elbows look sharp enough to stab, and his cheekbones appear sunken as if he has been underfed. Ushijima thinks he can see the man’s rib cage if he looks hard enough. To argue this weak appearing man to be a dragon person, rumoured to have the strength of ten plus men, is ludicrous and insulting to Ushijima’s intelligence. 

Did King Saito think he could pull a silly trick on the King of Shiratorizawa? He knows what his servants speak of their Kingdom when they think no one’s listening. What must their King think of him? Ushijima has to quell the sudden surge of anger to squash this land’s entire royal court using only three of his knights and himself. It’s doable, with how shabby Saito’s Kingdom is after Shiratorizawa's attack of their lands. But to do so after such a meticulous treaty was formed would be an incredulous action. He clenches his fist instead and closes his eyes in silent distaste of the measly sight before him. 

This man is a dragon? There was no way. All dragons had been killed more than a decade ago. The image of sooty burnt flesh flashes behind his eyelids. Ushijima can almost taste the smell of smoke on his tongue when he opens his eyes once more back onto the thin limbed man chained before Shiratorizawa’s court.

Shirabu slams his hands onto the table, “Is this an insult to our King? This thin man, a dragon person?” The young knight knocks his chair back in his process of getting to his feet.

Saito holds his hands up in a placating gesture. The King’s voice squeals high in an argument, “He is one! I swear it! My Marshal nabbed him through the tradings with some visiting pirates. The Nohebi group, a crazy bunch of criminals that sail the Cursed coast.”

“You had business with those lowly scum?” Shirabu replies, lip curled up in disgust.

Goshiki jumps from his seat and excitedly says, “No way!” His black bob of hair bounces humorously, and his eyes sparkle as he stares at the man being jostled onto his knees to peer up at them all from the ground. The wood digs into his exposed knees from the holes in the man’s clothing.

Shirabu glares at his junior, “You don’t actually believe him do you?” Goshiki’s response to shrug has Shirabu shaking his head in exasperation. 

He continues in his assertion, “Dragon people are only in legends. They aren’t real. They’re a story parents tell so that we know that magic must be stopped before it gets in the wrong hands. It’s only a cautionary tale to stop evildoers and black magic from emerging all over again.”

The red-haired man huffs out a weak laugh, and King Saito shoves his head to the floor.

“Shut it,” Saito demands.

Somehow while they were all distracted by conversation, the chained man had taken off the loose cloth tied around his mouth without the King’s notice. Likely from using those thin shoulders to jostle the fabric out of place, Ushijima suspects as he looks at the offending fabric. 

The Marshal immediately stumbles forward at King Saito’s look and muffles the man’s giggles with a dirty looking rag stuffed straight into his mouth. The Marshal re-ties the white cloth over the balled-up rag tight enough for the man to clench his nails in a fist of displeasure and emit a muffled low groan. Saito gestures his thumb to the stranger’s glaring face, “This one’s got a mouth on him. I apologize, your highness.”

The Marshal bows and stands up boldly, eyes certain, “I would’ve previously agreed with your insight, Shirabu-san, but I've seen this dragon with my own eyes. It had completely burned a pirate’s hand and did enough damage that they had to completely cut his hand off." Nose wrinkling at the dirtied man kneeling before them he continues, "They were eager to be rid of it. Though the creature cost a hefty sum.” At this note, he sourly looks down at the so-called dragon in clear dissatisfaction. The red-haired man manages to form a barely discernible grin as he bares his teeth despite his mouth being stuffed. The Marshal briefly smacks the back of the man’s head at such a blatant reaction to his grim words.

King Saito grins, unbothered by the stranger’s glee in injuring his previous owners. He says, “You see King Ushijima, not only is this a dragon person but as you know, he is the last of his kind. A rare magical creature. The rarest, in fact! And dragons are said to be magically lucky to have on your side. They can work miracles and heal your troops’ wounds. A priceless gift for a powerful King such as yourself.”

Ushijima turns his head, “It’s really a dragon?” 

“It is one without a doubt, your Highness.”

The worries of his mother’s cautionary tales poke at the back of his mind, a low reminder of their unfiltered violence. The pictures he had imagined of a dragon person were not seen in the lines of the thin man’s body. But there is a temptation licking at the back of Ushijima’s skull like the low embers of a firepit, just catching onto the wood, before bursting into large incomprehensible flames. The mention of being handed a miracle on a silver platter from wrangling a violent creature back to his Kingdom is an alluring price to pay for something so rare. The last image Ushijima has of his mother lingers in his mind and a spark of possibility emerges unbridled right before him. To think the answer could have sprung from the tiny Kingdom of Hama, by the coast of the Dark Sea of all places.

Leon points out, “But… where are his wings? He doesn’t have any. Don’t tell me you cut them off?” 

It is true that the man kneeling in front of them has no strange appendages different from any normal humans, but the echoes of the old tales simmer in Ushijima’s consciousness. His mother whispered of smooth human skins hiding bumpy scales and talons beneath their fingertips. Before he can add his thoughts to the conversation, Shirabu steps forward, mouth already opening in a sentence.

Shirabu nods at Leon and crosses his arms. “You must admit this is a little suspicious.” He glares at the red-haired man who rolls his eyes at him, still smiling uncannily as if he’s laughing at them all. With a glance to the man’s kneeling body, Ushijima’s eyes land on those strange red shapes lining the back of his neck. As if sensing the look, wide eyes locked onto his own. He meets the stranger's gaze with an unmoving blink, unwilling to back down. Ushijima thinks the man’s lips twitch in response and Ushijima furrows his eyebrows wondering what he finds so humorous from a King looking down at him.

“Of course, a great question, Leon,” King Saito replies, completely ignoring Shirabu’s smite to their intentions. He airly gestures at the stranger whose head suddenly curls down to the ground. The man becomes still and a Saito kicks at his back with the tip of his boot, “Well, go on now! Show them your wings, you useless creature.”

The man turns his head to the left side, ignoring Saito to his right side. The King seethes, eyes alight with hatred. He grips that fiery mane of hair in his thick fingers pushing the man’s neck at a painful angle, bearing his throat to the visitors of the castle. He whispers as he leans down to the man's right ear, “Take out your wings, right now. And I'll be nice I promise.” The stranger flinches at the words, head careening violently to the left as if Saito had yelled in his ear. The King shifts the man's head closer to his reach, his left hand clenched around the man's throat.

The King of Hama gestures for the Marshal to remove the gag, who is white as a sheet, and wary to approach the so-called dragon. He does as his King asks, removing the cloth and the red-haired man immediately spits out an, “I'm not doing shit for you.” His voice sounds gravelly, likely due to the strain of his neck as Saito pushes it back further. 

Ushijima idly thinks the stranger might dislocate his shoulder from the restless movements of his body due to his arms being chained behind him at the wrists.

Saito is positively spewing out smoke from how red his face is flushed in anger. He half drags the man to his feet by his long red hair and elbows the dragon’s lower back in the process of Saito’s movement. The man closes his eyes, gritting his teeth to withhold any grunts of pain from escaping his mouth. 

King Saito gripes, “I will tell you one more time. Show Ushijima Wakatoshi, the King of Shiratorizawa, your wings. His court has asked of it, and their wish will be granted.”

The man’s shoulders pull up to the sides of his face. He curls over and Ushijima sees his back twitch oddly as if shaking from the chilly winds characteristic of February. But the heat from the fireplace and torches warms Ushijima's limbs, so these odd movements are not the result of the weather. 

The man's muscles contort under the thin fabric. Stern-faced, and eyes glaring as his fingers clench painful red lines into his palms. His back emits a ripping sound of fabric tearing right before they are all greeted with a miraculous sight. With fire glinting warmth against the red of the man’s hair, two scaly wings flap from his back as crimson as the hairs sprouting from his head. He’s-it’s really a- Ushijima’s mouth opens and closes. Shirabu, Leon, and Goshiki are shocked to complete silence. King Saito smiles wickedly, pleased by their responses.

“See, I told you,” he says, roughly patting the dragon’s shoulder. It bristles in response, teeth baring over a curled lip. “A real dragon. The last one in existence.” 

Ushijima and his court move around the table to get a better look at their new gift. Goshiki peeks his head from behind Leon’s broad shoulders, hesitant to go closer. Shirabu, with his lips pursed, appears as if he wants to test poking the dragon to see if it’s only a magical trick played by the King or the Marshal. But they had all seen the dragon being tossed around by Saito easily. The monster is real, and kneeling before them.

The Marshal is already readying the cloth to tie around the dragon’s mouth once more. The creature’s cracked red lips are now in a straight unamused line after the exposure of his long wings, which he folds close to his trapped arms, half hiding them. His downturned eyes avoid staring directly at any of their eager gazes. 

Eyes alight, Ushijima demands, “what’s his name?”

King Saito grins and licks at his chipped tooth, a tiny habit of his. He strolls up to Ushijima, and pats his back, a friendly gesture between Kings. He says, “Tendou Satori. A pretty perfect name for something so vicious and monstrous, right?” 

Satori, the fictional tale of a monster that waits in the mountains and reads people’s minds to mess with their sanity. A fitting name for a magical dragon built to torment and kill humanity. The King of Shiratorizawa steps forward and the dragon looks up, with a deep frown marring his face. His nose even wrinkles in distaste at Ushijma’s closeness, shoulders shifting back an inch.

Ushijima grips the dragon person- _Tendou_ \- by the chin, fingers digging into his cheek. His calloused thumb pokes harshly at the edge of those discontent lips. “We’ll take it with us home, immediately. Have the dragon ready by dawn tomorrow.” 

King Saito motions for the Marshall to move forward but Tendou tries to pull his chin away, eyes harsh and nearly spitting in the King’s face. Ushijima grips him harder, forcing those tiny pupils to remain still and stare onto the new King he will now serve. 

Smashing the man’s cheeks painfully together with the force of his fingers, Ushijima says, “You work miracles, correct? Then you’ll do well in Shiratorizawa’s court instead of rotting away here in Hama.” He shoves the dragon’s head away and orders, “Take him away. I do not need to see the dragon until we depart tomorrow.”

The Marshal is already tying Tendou’s mouth before he can form a single protest. King Saito was correct, Ushijima supposes the dragon did have a mouth on him. He’ll still receive this gift with great thanks to Saito’s gratitude, for now, Shiratorizawa has a weapon no other Kingdom could replicate.

A dragon person. Something previously thought to be dead has now emerged in Shiratorizawa's clutches. That might be a miracle in itself, Ushijima thinks with a grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow this chapter turned out longer than anticipated. This idea recently came to me and I'm pretty excited to write this story, it's my first time doing a medieval/fantasy story so it'll be interesting!
> 
> btw, the asshole Saito is Tendou's unnamed bully in junior high from the anime, so technically he's not an OC. I couldn't make him any of the Haikyuu characters from other teams because I love them too much, so I just decided to pick the young kid that made fun of Tendou.
> 
> this is also enemies to lovers trope, so Ushijima ain't trusting Tendou anytime soon because of how the Kingdoms all view dragons to be man-eating monsters from legends, and are naturally, terrified of them.


	2. to rise from the ash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The red dragon wakes and Shiratorizawa's troops begin their long trek back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **trigger warning:** brief mention of non-consensual touching/groping during Tendou’s flashback of his time with the pirates. Skip over from: "Months and months later..." and start once more at "When he opened his eyes again..." if you don’t feel comfortable reading that description. It is for a brief few sentences and not an explicit scene. Safe reading, everyone!

Tendou wakes the next morning to the scraping of metal against stone. 

Blinking his eyes, he curses at the pre-dawn light on the horizon streaming directly onto his face through the grates of his cell’s tiny upper window. The obscured view is the only link he has to above ground from this basement reserved for criminals of the Kingdom. Saito had thrown him in here the moment he stepped foot between these walls. He had only reserved Tendou to be viewed by his noble friends, not daring to show the dragon to anyone else except those he trusts or employs at the castle. Tendou cannot tell how long it has been, a year perhaps? Maybe more than a year. No one really bothers to tell a dragon of how many months have gone by. Most of the time he guesses from the weather despite never living in Hama’s specific climate before.

The source of his misery strides into the dungeon, undeterred by the frown on Tendou’s face at the familiar sight of Saito’s gaudy lavish robes and clean fingers. 

Tendou scrunches his nose at the thought of some servant scrubbing between the King’s nails and bending down at the knees in complacence to a man who keeps people starving under his floors. The other prisoners groan and shuffle, but curl back to sleep when they realize that the _monster_ is the one garnering the King’s undivided attention at the moment. 

Saito is eyeing Tendou’s painful rusty chains, scraping against his arms. The crimson dragon was forced to retract his wings and slump against the wall last night as he slept so he didn’t dislocate his shoulder. Tendou surmises Saito has become antsy at the thought of being in bad grace to some rich King if Tendou wound up slipping away easily using the darkness of the night to his advantage. The King may be a buffoon, but he’s paranoid enough to not take any chances on a useful transaction.

The King of Hama turns to the guard stationed in front of Tendou’s cell, who straightens his posture and greets the King quickly, right arm placed over his heart in standard greeting. “Majesty!” 

Tendou groans, he forgot about him. Of course, Saito would place another guard inside the dungeon as well. The bastard is thorough because of the Marshal’s disgust towards Tendou’s simple existence. He bets the prickly man will throw a party the moment Tendou’s feet leave the premises. Tendou pokes at a hole in his shoe, the seams are fraying at the edges. 

Saito states, “So he’s still properly chained, very good.” 

Tendou says sardonically, "great to see you still love me." 

"Shut yer bloody mouth," Saito orders and rattles the bars separating them to convey his sincere intentions to wring his neck if the cell were unlocked.

Tendou lays his head back further, lip turning up. "I can't believe you're so frightened of me you handed me off to a rich guy who nearly destroyed this castle. Cause that totally makes sense."

Saito doesn't question how Tendou has gained this knowledge of the war above ground, when he's been rotting in a cell. If he had fallen for his bait, Tendou would've told Saito it was his magic, when really some knights had blabbed dumbly not thinking Tendou could speak their language. Of course, Saito ruins the fun and doesn’t take the bait.

Instead, King Saito's face curves on a self-satisfied smirk, destroying any possible amusement Tendou could’ve gained from this conversation. 

Saito says, "I don't have to deal with your monstrous body anymore, which is a favourable choice for our court. I would tell you it will be better for you over there, but Shiratorizawa’s court is filled with serious fighters. No one is weak among his troops.” He finishes off with a grin, “Good luck having any fun with them.”

Tendou’s arms shake in his binding, clenched into fists. He pulls himself onto his feet, intending to headbutt or kick at the man’s retreating figure. The bars clang painfully against his forehead as he seethes between the cold metal. 

“Take him away," Saito says to the guard. Tendou backs away from the locked gate, up against the furthest corner as the Knight unlocks the cell. Eyes focusing on the man’s open palms, Tendou is wary of the intensely familiar motion of being punched straight across his jaw for speaking out of line. 

Cold sweat trickles beneath his raggedy clothing. Biting his lip, Tendou understands his fate is sealed and his arms are bound. The dragon’s wings are useless in this basement and he doesn’t have any escape other than a tiny window no bigger than Tendou’s head. The iron weighing his arms down heavily negates the use of his fingers that can cast out fire spells. He curses harshly as the guard approaches, whose eyebrows furrow upon a determination to carry out the King’s wishes. 

Tendou glances at the back of Saito’s brown hair and the King opens a door leading to the main floor. Saito motions in a wave of his white-gloved hand for the guard to pull Tendou to above ground where the stoic King from last night's strange proclamation of Tendou as a gift waits for his arrival. The guard knocks him forward, armored legs poking at the back of Tendou’s wobbly knees and Saito grins, his ugly chipped tooth glittering in the light from the upcoming dawn. 

A potato sack is thrown over his head before Tendou can even spit on Saito in retaliation. He supposes he can spit on this new royalty instead and see how the fancy troops enjoy this 'thoughtful gift' from Saito after Tendou insults their King in broad daylight. They’ll regret ever accepting anything from Saito with open arms in a heartbeat. No matter how strong their troops are, the simple threat of monstrous saliva always has nobles knickers in a complete twist.

They begin their trek through the castle, but are interrupted by two Knights who take over at Saito’s call to, “go ahead, you can take him from here.” Tendou stands completely blind in the warmth of the upper floor he rarely resides in for a tiny moment of peace. Two new pairs of hands grip onto his arms tightly, leading him forward once more. Thus, he is sandwiched between two presumably burly knights from the foreign Kings’ troops. 

The two men must hold tired expressions for being ordered around at this early hour Tendou guesses to occupy himself from attempting to make a run for it. Running now would be pointless considering the sack covering his vision. Once they leave the cold shadows of the indoor stones and reach the patchy grass to the front of the castle grounds, Tendou’s mouth falls open to fill in the uncomfortable silence.

He says to the Knights who move him at a snail pace, "So you work for Ushiwaka then? Is he really that strong of a ruler?" 

The men jostle him and he's suddenly being thrown forward. Unable to catch himself with his hands tied, he crashes face-first into the ground. One of the voices that spoke Tendou recognizes from last night, though his memories are jumbled. He recalls as he hears the exact inflection of the man's voice spewing a curse, it’s likely the knight with the weirdly cut hair and an expression as if he had just drank spoiled milk. The same Knight says with a high voice, "how dare he speak our King’s name incorrectly! Is this gift really useful, King Saito, or is this merely a method for you to insult our Kingdom's strength?"

Saito apologizes, "of course not! This monster has a mouth on him, he needs to be disciplined for his misbehaving." 

The King grips the back of Tendou’s head by the potato sack, pulling his hair strands into a familiar sting of pain that has Tendou’s mouth opening upon a gasp of air. King Saito shoves Tendou’s face into the grass even further from when he initially fell onto his knees. 

Saito hisses, "King _Ushijima_ is your new King. Treat him as such."

To be fair, his head was a little busy in that moment, attempting to soothe itself from being tossed around lately. So it isn't a surprise he misheard the King's name in last night's meeting. At the time he was busy getting his hair pulled and wasn’t really paying attention to names spoken over the fast pace of his heart and the constant ringing noise from being screamed at straight into his sensitive ears. Tendou wouldn't be surprised if he becomes deaf after getting through all of this, or perhaps he’ll have found a way to off himself by then. 

In short, he didn’t intend to insult. But honestly, the alternative of politely calling this rich asshole ‘Majesty’ is too disgusting to even spill past his lips or to be taken remotely seriously; he would ruin it with a giggle or a snort or the curl of his lips. So insulting him by accidentally giving him a funny nickname is probably the best option for Tendou right now, considering the circumstances of you know, being sold like livestock between two members of a fancy court. 

If only a sword was within his reach, but of course, they’re all too smart for that. And the potato sack thrown over his head isn’t exactly helping to determine methods of escape. His nose can only give him so many clues. Such as the fact he is lying face first in a patch of grass at the moment. The potato sack is thick enough to bathe his eyes in darkness, but not enough to dissuade his sharp nose and for his mind to comprehend his surroundings from his bared knees scrabbling against the wet grass in an attempt to push away from Saito’s rough hands gripping his hair.

Ushijima's voice booms and Tendou's frame unconsciously shakes at the sudden loud voice emerging in front of him, likely about a yard away from where Tendou is embarrassingly sprawled. "It is fine Shirabu. It likely doesn't have the intelligence to understand our names and retain them." 

Tendou half-growls in disagreement, head raising at the chance to move freely, but Saito pushes his head back into the ground, smashing Tendou's nose even further. Tendou thinks desperately that at least it's not enough force to properly break his nose. The snobby King has always been quite weak in strength in comparison to the Nohebi pirates who trained vigorously for combat, with the excuse he is above the battlefield due to his status as royalty.

Saito eagerly says, "yes of course. This dragon has a few screws loose, but at least his magic is a usable weapon for your Kingdom." 

The knight Tendou assumes is named Shirabu surmises, "it better be. Otherwise, it has no worth to us." 

Tendou's stomach curls unpleasantly. He cannot tell if it's from their comments or from his lack of sustenance. Saito roughly pulls him back up into the guidance of Ushijima's Knights’ hands that push him forward. Tendou has half the mind to spit at _Ushiwaka_ , but considering the potato sack, it wouldn't exactly get Tendou anything but a faceful of his own spit.

Thankfully, they throw him into some wooden box, judging by the way his feet cause the planks to creak. Nose sniffing, he confirms the tangible smell of dead oak in stale air. An iron lock clicks and he assumes he has been locked away in a pseudo cage made for travel. He has no idea how long it will take to arrive at Shiratorizawa's Castle, for he has always avoided the cities and large towns in preference for the forests hugging around its borders.

He relaxes his clenched fingers and tries to ease his breathing whilst having a potato sack restrict his vision. It's a considerable feat to do under such pressure and Tendou manages it after a couple seconds of internally directing his breathing. 

Tendou should be used to cages by now, but each time he's thrown into one it's hard to ease the shiver of want in his bones to fly away from this. Feeling above him by hopping up, he confirms the wooden ceiling has trapped his body in here for the foreseeable future. With a quick pace back and forth, he also concludes that there’s no room to comfortably release his wings either. They will cramp the next time he lets them out. Tendou slides to the ground, curling up his knees to sit in the corner of the box.

God, his forehead aches.

He may have received multiple concussions by this point, but perhaps dragon skulls were too thick to inflict any serious damage. That's what King Saito would argue if Tendou even remotely complained of his treatment. Crumpling up into the corner of the wooden box and wishing for anyone to remove this ridiculous sack from his head, he closes his eyes and succumbs himself to a well-deserved rest he missed this morning, being woken before the peak of dawn.

♠...♠...♠

Two years ago, Tendou swayed with the shifting weight of the ship from every wave. Each tilt of the floorboards pulled at his stomach, threatening the organ to expel the measle portions of food he had managed to swallow the day before. His head had ached then, as well. There was hardly ever a time where he didn’t suffer from headaches.

“Let me go,” Tendou pleaded, voice cracking.

“Aw did you hear him, Captain, he said to let him go, ha! Look at him shaking!” 

The Captain with snake-like eyes that Tendou had discovered later was named Daishou spoke briskly to Tendou, his eyebrows raised in mock acknowledgment of the thin frame kneeling at their feet, heavily bruised and tired. “The Ougiminami pirates couldn’t handle you, huh? What are you, only sixteen years old? And captured by a group of pirates, what a feat at such a young age!”

Daishou kicked at Tendou’s right leg, adding another bruise to the growing collection on his limbs. “Answer me,” he demanded.

“I’m…eighteen.” 

Daishou continued, undisturbed by Tendou’s correction. “They said you were a handful. You see they only sold you, _a dragon_ , for five gold coins. That’s how much you’re worth to them - five coins! What idiots that lot of them.” 

He bent down, close to Tendou’s face. Shaking from seasickness and discomfort, he turned his head at the older man’s warm breath against his cheek. “We could sell you to a fancy fat King for what, triple that cost? I consider you a steal, what’s your name again?” 

One of the other pirates answered from the doorway of the lower deck. “They said his name’s Tendou Satori.” The man had strangely spiked light brown hair and an unbothered expression on his face. Tendou thought he must be the man who had struck the deal with the rival group of pirates due to the documents he held. The man held out the papers to Daishou and the Captain’s eyes glided over the words smoothly.

“How diligent of them, they even included your measurements.” Daishou’s tiny eyes widened at the scrawled letters and cheekily commented, “A five foot seven wingspan.”

The other man nodded, “Very interesting indeed, Captain.”

“We haven’t seen a dragon in what, 6 years?” Daishou asked, and continued on without pause, he likely already knew Tendou was too drowsy to respond. “Your kind are good at hiding. Or maybe it's like they said, and you’re the last one left. Wouldn’t be surprised from how weak you are.” 

They kept him in the cupboard below deck, leaving him to sit idle for days as he stared at the wooden walls enclosing his limbs. Pirates would tease him with ripped off pieces of bread, and dangled them before his eyes whenever they handed him a bowl of water to drink. After three days passed, he resorted to begging for spare morsels. 

Thankfully, certain pirates sent his way were capable of empathy. There was the spiky brown-haired man named Kuguri that gave Tendou half his meal with no comment, and a rough around the edges man with blonde hair and tired lines under his eyes that quietly handed Tendou a full loaf of bread. He took the scraps gratefully, fearful of any harsh retaliation. 

With the previous pirates, Tendou was allowed to work above deck alongside them, but the dragon had made the terrible mistake of ransacking their treasure and attempting to escape in one night. Because of this, the Nohebi pirates, wary of Tendou’s intentions, kept him locked up and continued to sail the sea in their search for treasure without any stop or consideration of the dragon which slept underneath their decks. 

The lack of the usual wary stares of strangers was welcome, but the loneliness was unbearable. He knew that his freedom was a ludicrous illusion he would never be granted. Any human who looked at him used him, or pitied him and threw him a loaf of bread, unwilling to do anything to help him escape.

Months and months later, a man would put his hand onto his thigh, fingers grabbing at his clothes. Touching his skin. Smoke filled his nostrils, he felt inflamed, as if his entire body were doused in oil and someone had lit Tendou on a match. When he opened his eyes again, or when his eyes properly saw what was in front of him, the man’s fingers were charred off completely. 

Then he heard the screams.

Tendou would never forget those screams. Nor the hum of fire licking up his fingers to comfort his staccato beating heart. He was safe, he thought to himself. The crimson dragon was half-convinced this to be true despite Daishou’s enraged eyes when he fell upon the frightful scene. Of a man screeching in pain, caressing a hand that no longer moved and Tendou whose clothes were in a disarray, eyes relaxed and even smiled a greeting to Daishou.

The Captain of the Nohebi pirates docked his ship at the nearest Kingdom. And Saito likely slept in his bed unaware of what monstrosity awaited his castle walls.

...

Jolting awake, Tendou's face smashes into aged wood from the sudden stop of the wooden cart's movement. At the sight of the bumpy surface in front of him, he shifts his torso so he's properly seated, making sense of his surroundings. He frowns uneasily at the realization that someone had removed the sack from his head as he slept. He shivers at the prospect of a human moving so close to him without his knowledge and not inflicting any damage. The only injury Tendou has is the light bruising of his nose and neck thanks to Saito's eagerness to stay on the snarky Knight's good side.

Had Tendou been that unaware of his surroundings he didn't wake at the sound of the doors unlocking? He must be lacking in sleep. Even if he hadn't slept very well for the past few weeks, it was nothing strange for Tendou to toss and turn in that solitary cell. It may be a cumulation of a lack of rest that spurred on this error in awareness. But to think something as outrageous as another trade to occur once more of Tendou's high priced body was unfathomable at the time of Tendou's tossing in his fitful sleep. There had been no intuition for these events remotely. Saito had previously seemed hell bent on keeping Tendou underneath his stony castle until the rats ate at his corpse. 

Sitting back, the dragon recalls the events of the pre-dawn morning. The man named Ushijima Wakatoshi, an apparent King to some distant throne. Of how he spoke of Tendou and his Knight's agreement to Saito's words. 

The night before, Ushijima had been eyeing Tendou's scales with a confused expression that Tendou found amusing to see on such a previously unmoved face. The man attempted to think of some suitable human explanation for Tendou's marks. When their eyes met, Tendou had an inane thought that the man with the warm-brown olive eyes had seen him as another equal to be acknowledged. 

Of course, he was just like the rest of humanity, indifferent to his existence. Like a tiny pebble he could step over, forgotten in a winding path. Stomach turning in place, Tendou's black nails pick at the grooves of the walls obsessively.

He should be unsurprised by humans' cruelty for it's what they usually enact to one another. Splitting open skulls and cutting off their fellow humans' limbs. Over something as petty as lands. Tendou shakes his head in order to not become uselessly agitated by his thoughts. If he closes his eyes, perhaps he can recall the fresh wet smell of the chilly forest at his parents’ camp. Muscles relaxing and eyelids drooping, he leans his limbs languidly against the wood.

He remembers the callouses of his mother's hands combing through his tangled hair working silent magic to keep the wavy hairs in place, but never telling Tendou her secret little trick with a quirk to her lip, bluebird eyes mischievous. The tiny pin in her hair that glinted in the sunlight with every turn of her head catching her fiery tresses like the heart of a flame. 

His Dad’s equally calloused hands that shake Tendou’s tiny body up from the ground, plopping Tendou onto his shoulders to reach high branches to climb onto when his mother wasn’t looking. He’d egg Tendou into flapping his wings and leaping off the sturdy treetops at the age of five. 

The ant-filled log he'd sit on as his Dad pointed out the stars to him and tell tales of their histories, of the original Dragon clan that started it all. When the humans treated dragon people as holy beings sent by the Gods and were worshipped. 

His Dad had said that was before the humans became greedy and turned on us. Now the dragons must hide from humanity’s unfair treatment between the trees and in secret caves. Spread out from one another to avoid immediate capture. Dragons must always know how to scatter and flee the nest. His parents didn't fly fast enough, though. 

Tendou thought he should be accustomed to such an old loss from when he was only nine. But the hurt still comes back in waves of leftover memories, disjointed and half-formed. An insect filled log. A golden pin glinting over red hairs. Calloused fingers. They could be figments of his imagination for all Tendou knew. But they were precious and calming even in their sadness. So Tendou remembers his parents in hopes of forgetting where his body truly is.

...

The small group of Knights Ushijima had called to Saito’s castle worked their way back to camp and joined their troops together in preparation to head back home with their new gift in tow. The red dragon was successfully locked within a wooden cart pulled by two horses. The transport was for prisoners and had been empty so last night Ushijima had sent a messenger to his camp to notify a few Knights he trusted most to deliver the cart to the castle before dawn. 

Ushijima had told them all to keep the knowledge of the gifted dragon to themselves. Even if one or two talked to the other troops, most people wouldn’t believe anyone who argued there was a dragon sitting amongst them. They’d prefer the story Leon delivered to the troops of Saito giving them a large lion to join their current pair of lions back home. 

With Saito’s castle in the distance and no longer posing any threat, Ushijima walks amidst the last-minute chaos of unorganized, half-asleep troops packing away their tents and refilling canteens of water. The young King is joined at the side by Washijou, an old friend of his Mother’s who trained her to fight and the current Vassal of the Northern part of Shiratorizawa. 

The elderly man had spent years perfecting his border control of the constant barrages from Seijou’s commoners and troublemakers that attempted to gain more land by force. They were a rowdy bunch up North, but Washijou held a very stern hand that ensured Shiratorizawa’s solid borders. Currently, Seijou was on rocky, but amiable terms with Shiratorizawa. The royal family even visited their castle for celebratory occasions, though it had been quite some time since Ushijima had seen the Oikawa Family.

Washijou also worked as a diplomat, visiting the castle to vote upon court decisions and even offered advice to his mother when she had ruled the country.

“I keep telling him to take a break,” Akira says, walking beside Washijou and attempting to make casual conversation as they watch over the troops hustling to prepare for their journey. The man is Washijou’s adopted son and the advisor over Shiratorizawa’s political matters. He is the messenger between Ushijima and all the other noblemen of their court and handled conversing on good terms with foreign powers as easily as he rode his steed.

Washijou shakes his head. “I will not be retiring my duties, I’m not that old yet.”

“You see what I have to deal with?” Akira sighs.

“I can hear you.”

“Earlier you said your ears weren’t as great as they used to be, which is it then?”

“Son, don’t you have something better to do than pester the King and an elderly man?” Washijou points out, hands interlocked behind him as he moves forward.

Akira rolls his eyes and meets Ushijima’s gaze, “I suppose I’ll handle the rest? I’ve already looked over your main notes and won’t stray from your decisions. Saito won’t be able to escape our watch for awhile.”

“Akira-san, I trust you’ll handle it all well. With your watchful eyes, I can rest easy back in Shiratorizawa. Thank you for your hard work,” Ushijima says.

Akira smiles and bows, “It’s my pleasure, your Majesty.” He pushes back to his full height and says over his shoulder, “I’ll see you in a month, old man.”

Washijou clicks his tongue and waves half-heartedly at his son’s retreat. The elderly man breaks the silence, “So what is it you wanted to speak about? You don’t usually spend your spare time with a boring old man such as myself.”

“I do enjoy our talks, Washijou-sensei.”

“I’m no longer your sensei because I’ve trained you to your full potential. There’s no need to keep calling me that,” he says.

“Sorry, it’s a hard habit to break, Washijou-san.”

“What’s on your mind,” Washijou asks once more, and the tone of his voice indicates Ushijima cannot talk around his intentions any further. Washijou was never the type to waste time, it’s one of the many qualities Ushijima admires of the man, in hopes of becoming equally efficient with anyone he spoke with.

“I need your advice. Did I make the right decision of taking the gift and trusting King Saito’s intentions?” 

Washijou pauses, eyes contemplative as he gazes at a knight bending over to gather his horse some abandoned straw. The elderly man glances at Ushijima from the corner of his eye and says, “The gift of a dragon is nothing to scowl at, my boy. There is no price to that great of a magical creature. Kingdoms will envy you as they did your mother for her infamous magical collection, though none of them were still alive, so this will garner even further renown.” 

The young King cannot hold back the words any longer, so they spill out slowly from his downturned lips, “Washijou-san, I must admit I’m normally confident in my decisions, but this time I acted hastily. What if this only digs a worse future for Shiratorizawa?” His heart beats wildly at the thought of failing his people or endangering their city by bringing back an untrustworthy magical creature his mother had warned him about.

“Wakatoshi, you’ve grown from the young boy you were two years ago, you’re an adult. Your father would be proud, and well your mother.” Washijou’s expression grows grim, his eyes closing. Ushijima can tell he is uncertain of how to proceed, almost no one speaks of the Queen, to be on good terms with Ushijima, the current young King. But Ushijima misses the casualness which used to be spoken of her name, of the smiles that once lingered on everyone’s faces that were now gone. 

Washijou unfolds his hands and steps closer to Ushijima. “She’s proud, if I know anything with certainty, it’s that.” 

He squeezes Ushijima’s shoulder tightly, a strange moment of physical familiarity that was rare emerged between them. Ushijima didn’t know how to respond to such blatant kindness from the man who once yelled at him for his poor posture as he fought his opponents on the training field when he was twelve. Despite his old age, and frail appearance Ushijima cannot question the power of his gaze and intentions; the intelligence the man held was renown. Ushijima could trust his decision was right if Washijou saw it as beneficial and a bearer of luck to their people. 

Washijou whispers, “This is just what the Queen needs. I can feel it in my bones, Wakatoshi.” 

Ushijima felt it in his bones as well, but in a way that wasn’t normal. He felt the presence of the dragon like a brand on the back of his neck or smoke stinging his eyes. He couldn’t keep his eyes from straying to the heavy wood encasing that monster by a simple iron padlock that seemed flimsy in comparison to magical power.

He says, “I do as well, sir.”

“Then we’ve got nothing to fear, son,” Washijou says.

A dragon sits in a wooden cart, ready to be pulled to their city and Ushijima hopes this statement can be willed into reality through the King’s simple longings for a trip home without any complications.

Washijou claps Ushijima's back and adds, “Shiratorizawa will prevail, with your parents' legacy at its head, guiding its people. There is no other way.” 

The King nods and orders his troops to mount their horses in their proper lines.

...

Tendou didn't think the cart door would open anytime soon. 

Courtly people are more likely to feed their horses and livestock than a recently gifted foreign creature. King Saito had refused to hand him any sustenance for five days until Tendou was forced to beg the Knight who stood guard for any scraps of food they had on them. They would all refuse and it wasn't until Tendou called Saito his King was he able to finally eat any spare bread, thoroughly stale and occasionally moldy. 

As a result of his terrible nutrition his collarbones and shoulder jut out in a manner that is painful to stare at and for him to even touch, his fingers pricked at the harsh edges when he had poked them in boredom. Tendou hasn't seen his reflection in months, since his time with the pirates. Even then, it was a tiny glimpse from reflected water rippling by the docks off the coast of the Dark Sea. Tendou had stepped onto Hama's lands and immediately puked into the sand from seasickness. Dragons and water never mixed very well. 

Miraculously, the door opens and the dragon raises his eyes curiously upon the creaking doors and the three familiar figures of the Knights from the night before. He thinks they have stopped for a tiny break, judging from how the cart broke its movement forward ages ago. Now the sun is high up in the sky, indicating it is noon and he can distantly hear men chatting, which indicates that Ushijima had told them to put the cart far from the rest of the troops. They truly thought Tendou would be up to trouble tied up like this? 

Shirabu is the one who holds open the wooden door, his brown hair cut so strangely that even Tendou whose hair is fairly ridiculous calls into question the man’s sanity. An equally strange haircut emerges from the young boy with ivory hair cut like an upside-down bowl. The boy is between the two Knights. Despite Shirabu being tiny and unassuming beside the bowl cut kid, Tendou can guess from his various remarks in the past that he’s the most snappy of the three of them. The largest Knight has russet-brown skin and the simplest haircut among them, cut cleanly. He seems to be holding something in his arms, but since his back is facing Tendou he cannot make out the exact item.

Shirabu says, “I can't believe we have to feed it.” The statement isn’t directed to anyone, as if he is complaining to himself out loud. 

He then glares up at the bowl-cut boy, who inches closer to him and is glued to his side. The young boy is busy staring at Tendou in a manner that should feel unsettling, but just makes Tendou feel embarrassed by the keen attention. Since the cart is above the ground due to its wheels, Tendou finds himself in the rare position of looking down at the Knights for once rather than up at them.

“Stand back, Goshiki," Shirabu orders, his elbow nudging the bowl-cut kid named Goshiki away. 

"Eep!" Goshiki realizes Tendou is blinking directly at him and hides behind the tallest knight. The boy warbles out weakly, "does he really bite?" 

Shirabu grins, "maybe he's got a disease." 

"Stop it, Shirabu, you'll scare him more," says the Knight Tendou still doesn’t know the name of. He speaks with an air of calm Tendou doesn’t recognize in the other two Knights. The man must be used to wrangling the two from their bickering. Tendou assumes they are both the tallest man’s juniors, from how small Shirabu is in height, and how Goshiki’s face still has a fair amount of baby fat to it that Tendou himself had lost back when he was eighteen. 

“That's the point," Shirabu says as he steps up onto the cart using a wooden crate for leverage. He holds an arm up to his mouth as if the dragon smells terrible. "What does it even eat, anyways?" 

The larger man turns and Tendou now can see he is holding a tray of various types of bread and a leg of chicken. Tendou refrains from having his mouth water at the sight. Goshiki who is peeking behind the dark skinned man is carrying a water jug, that Tendou had not noticed earlier due to being distracted by the boy’s strange hair. 

Deciding it’s prime time he breaks his silence, Tendou remarks, "You do realize I can understand what you're all fucking saying, right?" He lazily eyes them, head tilted back on the wall he's slumped against. 

The young one squeaks again, nearly spilling his jug, and Tendou's heart aches at that familiar action. He turns his eyes away. 

Shirabu, the most talkative of the three, says, "watch your tone." He taps his foot and gestures with his head for the taller knight to move forward onto the cart. He turns to Goshiki and roughly takes the jug from his hands. "Let me take care of it."

The young Knight’s leather gloved hands tightly stick onto the jug and Goshiki protests, "But King Ushijima said"-

"This monster is not to be taken lightly or trusted. Let your superior handle him." 

"Fine." Goshiki shoves the jug up into Shirabu’s arms and doesn’t glance back as he scurries away from the cart. Shirabu closes the open doors with a swift pull. 

Tendou oddly thinks Shirabu is doing this more to stop the younger boy's screeching of horror than to defend against Tendou, who is at the moment tied up in a manner that will not allow him to do much of anything besides duck his face in a plate of food similar to a pet dog. His nose wrinkles at the thought, even if the actions were similar to what he did back in Hama, he isn't desensitized enough to succumb to royalty’s whims. 

"I'm surprised you're giving me food. I thought I was a creature of legends and ‘not real'," Tendou teases, holding up his long fingers as he quotes Shirabu’s words from their meeting last night. 

"See? We didn't have to feed it. Leon, let's go then," Shirabu says and delightfully smiles at the frown on Tendou's previously amused face.

"Shirabu, you heard what Ushijima said, we will feed him, and then we ourselves will have a small meal before we begin traveling again," Leon reminds his junior.

"Fine. And just so you know, Tendou, I didn't think you understood us from the way you completely butchered our King's name earlier."

"Ah, _Ushiwaka_ , you mean?" Tendou says, teeth bared in a wide smile.

Shirabu seethes, "I'm not doing this, you can take it." He shoves the jug into the taller Knight's arms who opens his mouth as if to stop his retreat, but closes it with a sigh. The wooden doors slam behind the Knight’s purple cape and Tendou can’t control the smile that twitches over his lips at the successful poking of the man’s limits. 

Leon says, "it'll be easier on you if you cooperate you know." He bends to place the jug onto the wooden floor so he can properly carry the tray of Tendou’s meal without risk of toppling the smooth bread.

"I'm a dragon. Not exactly known for being cooperative, according to you humans."

"Here you go,” Leon says, crouching over to place the tray in front of Tendou. “If you have any problems let us know."

Of course, there are no forks or knives, they wouldn't trust his hands just as Saito never trusted them since the Nohebi pirates cursed their actions. Still, Tendou can already feel the ghost of an ache in his neck, from previous nights of bending down into disgusting scraps of food Saito threw into his cell. He hesitates, recalling the time Saito had drugged his meal and sent some men into his cell to inspect his wings as he was inebriated on something that caused his brain to become mushy, and limbs floppy. He had drifted through unconsciousness and consciousness through it all. His heart was beating too slow and Tendou had thought he was about to die from eating some bad-tasting old porridge Saito handed him. 

The chicken leg is glistening and his paranoid mind falters, flinching back from Leon’s swift push of the tray closer to his body for easy access. Leon lifts a thick eyebrow, frowning at the red haired man’s action. Then his eyes light up as if in understanding, “Ah.”

Leon takes the bread and quickly breaks off a piece, popping the fluffy white morsel into his mouth. Leon chews and swallows, and says, “See, it’s not poisoned. Do not worry.” He takes a quick bite of the chicken leg as well in hopes of reassuring Tendou further. The red haired man watches on in eerie fascination at the warmth in the man’s eyes as he puts the leg back down and shoves the tray forward again. 

“Go on, then.”

Tendou doesn’t mention his fear of unknown drugs rather than poison and begins to eat the meal messily, his hunger taking first priority over maintaining a conversation with a royal guard and his current enemy.

The meat melts on his tongue and is for once seasoned well. Tendou refrains from moaning at the delightful taste after such a long time of eating leftover table scraps from the servant’s quarters. He always eats the tiniest amount necessary, since before he was taken he already had a fairly tiny appetite in terms of food. While other dragons could munch on three times the meat, he’d chew thoughtfully through a single portion and be satisfied. Saito had encouraged his tiny appetite to an extreme degree in a manner that has him wary of most of his meals. Still, the aroma of warm meat wafting through his nose is far too tempting to ignore.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Leon says and closes the cart door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter, as well as the next one, will likely be Tendou-focused of tiny snapshots during their journey back to Shiratorizawa's castle. I may also place a whole flashback chapter as a standalone of what happened in Ushijima's past, particularly of his mother, the previous Queen. That chapter will be fairly short, unless I add in multiple perspectives of the events, so we'll see how it goes! :) let me know what you think of this chapter~


	3. on the matters of daily sustenance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tendou and the Knights' shenanigans as they travel. (A.K.A. a bonding montage over three weeks of traveling)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, sorry for the long wait. This is a beast of a chapter that got out of hand. I'm the type that has to write to a specific point in the story and I wanted this entire chaptr to cover the journey back to the castle. But it got excessively long and I didn't want to split it up because I wanted the -in travel- chapter to be a single one. So here it is, their long journey back in a very long chapter. Take it as a treat for the long wait! 
> 
> As usual the three spades ♠♠♠ signal the past while the "..." signals the present time.

Shiratorizawa’s troops are boring, Tendou decides. The thought emerges as he picks his pointed nails into the grooves of the wood by his thighs.

After Tendou ate every piece of food given, Leone had grabbed the empty tray with no further comment or interesting distraction from Tendou’s unstoppable course to Shiratorizawa’s castle. The troops had continued their uneventful movement between trees and the sun had slowly set. Tendou assumed these facts from the snapping of twigs and the receding light that trickled past the wooden boards, which weren't properly spaced. 

They had set up camp, but Tendou didn’t have much privy to that due to his distance from any form of life. He sits more than ten yards away from the action, Tendou guessed using his heightened sense of sound. He could hear their vague murmurs and rattling of pots, but nothing exciting to quell his boredom. Tendou would usually occupy his time by mocking guards or being chatty, but without an audience talking to himself would only prove how unhinged these humans truly drive him. 

Thus, Tendou’s jaw creaks from the stern line of his mouth. Pushing his molars against one another in a fit of harsh tension, Tendou doesn’t succumb to the temptation of grabbing his tormentor's attention in a fit of rage. He keeps his mouth painfully closed and continues to bore holes into the wall in front of him. Distantly he acknowledges he has to take a piss, after downing that jug of water, which sits empty beside him. Drinking it all may have been a mistake, who knows when Leone will bother to show up with another meal for their untrustworthy mythical creature, sent straight from what their ancestors assume to be hell. 

Clanking footsteps, an unmistakably armored Knight approaches Shiratorizawa’s tiny portable prison. Tendou blinks up at the unmoving wooden doors expecting to be greeted by another meal hastily handed to him.

“I have to relieve myself,” Tendou says the moment Shirabu opens the cart door to deliver him a late night meal of bread and fish.

Shirabu gives him a pinched expression, that spoiled milk one Tendou enjoys the most and closes the doors on Tendou’s face immediately. Tendou can only grin that at least he got a tiny glimpse of his pissed reaction before the door slammed shut. 

The red haired man lies down, eyeing the course ceiling with dark brown lines and attempting to follow their direction to a set end. His eyes get lost in the mess of lines and so he begins again. A new game to occupy his attention. That is until Shirabu has simmered long enough in his anger to come drop off that appetizing tray to him once more.

...

Of course the monster cannot make Shirabu’s job any easier.

Why is he always the one who ends up dealing with the worst sort of mess? The dragon looked far too pleased as well, enough that Shirabu was tempted to stab one of his eyes or perhaps to tie his mouth shut. That smile was terrible, with too much teeth and cracking dry lips. Blood edging into the grin from underneath peeled skin. It is no surprise Goshiki had trembled at the sight that afternoon. That isn’t a face one can simply look at without their eyes begging to find an escape.

Shirabu recalls Leon was helping Ushijima in the King’s large tent to go over their planned direction for tomorrow’s travel. So the young Knight heads into the direction of the King's main quarters. 

The sun is on the edge of the horizon, almost slipping away. Soon the moon will be out along with the stars. These distant sparkling lights promise him a welcome rest Shirabu has been craving all day due to their uninteresting horse-riding through extremely similar trees. Shirabu had even made a game of counting the coniferous trees to quell his boredom.

It didn’t help that Goshiki had been the one stationed beside him in the formation, resulting in him blabbering in Shirabu’s ear for a majority of the journey. Shirabu decides he’ll ask Leon to take his spot for tomorrow, he’ll even give him half his rations of food to convince Leon to switch spots. 

He approaches the tent calmly, attempting to contain his displeasure with Tendou by keeping his mouth in a thin line. Shirabu already knows he has failed by the twitching of his eyebrows as he pushes the cloth away to enter. 

Ushijima, dressed in his day clothes, a simple puffy white shirt and his dark brown trousers, is bent over the table housing the map of Shiratorizawa. The King is busy talking to a Knight familiar with travelling in these areas. Leon is to Ushijima's left, scribbling on some paper documents by the map. Leon notices the movement of the tent flap and makes a noise of acknowledgement before elbowing Ushijima beside him. The Knight pauses mid-sentence at Ushijma’s rise to full height, also turning his attention to look at who interrupted their meeting. Shirabu contains a frown at the thought of Tendou being the reason he has to inconvenience the King for something as ludicrous as needing to pee.

“Can I speak to you, King Ushijima?” He cocks his head to the left, to indicate for Ushijima to follow. “Privately, outside?” he says trying to convey with his eyes that this is a ‘Tendou Issue’ as he’d like to call it.

The King agrees and Shirabu doesn’t wait to hear what he tells Leon or the other Knight, automatically walking out a couple steps away from the tent, hugging his arms around himself due to the chill of the wind.

He should’ve worn his gloves; he keeps forgetting to grab them each morning. They’re likely somewhere in the bottom of his rucksack. He idly thinks he still has Leon’s single glove but the man is practically a fireplace, similar to Ushijima in that he rarely gets cold hands. 

Ushijima exits the tent gracefully, his thinner lightweight smallsword strapped to his side, likely expecting Shirabu and him to be walking somewhere to deal with an issue in the camp. On the way over to the Kingdom of Hama there had been tiny incidents of brawls between Knights who didn’t get along, but over the course of their travels they all had settled down amiably, thanks to Ushijima’s strict orders and Leon’s support. The second guard excels at speaking as equals to his peers and at gaining others trust. Shirabu has never met anyone who disliked Leon, his smile far too warm and his kindness worn on his sleeves. Like a hand open for one to reach up towards. Leon is that sort of companionship anyone wishes to reach in their lifetime. He's lucky he landed himself on good terms with both the King and Leon, who were legendary for their strength amongst their troops.

As Ushijima approaches, Shirabu hesitates to speak. He cannot exactly paraphrase this sentiment so he tells the King directly what Tendou had asked of him. 

Ushijima pauses at the request, and simply answers, “Let him relieve himself, of course.” His expression exhibits no hesitation or embarrassment, while Shirabu can feel his neck burning at the strangeness of their conversation. That damn Tendou. Shirabu despises him and he will never let his guard down around that menace for forcing him to say these words to a King.

“We told the troops we had a lion in there,” Shirabu reminds him, thinking of how the troops will peer at Shirabu for walking around with a shackled Tendou into the woods.

“Do it discreetly. I’m sure he can wait for nightfall to relieve himself. If not we can give him a pail to have in the cart with him.” He orders Shirabu without any hesitation, head turning away to the tent. The King's thoughts are clearly occupied by the previous conversation he was having that was actually worth his time. Glancing back at Shirabu, who still stands in front of him, he raises an eyebrow at Shirabu’s clear irritated expression. Darn it, Shirabu thinks to himself he must’ve begun frowning without realizing it at the amount of work it will take to handle Tendou.

Ushijima remarks, “What, did you expect me to let him sleep in his own piss?” 

“No. I’m just- It’s, ugh, It’s fine. I’ll go take him now.” Shirabu bows quickly and starts turning on his heel to leave. “If you can keep the troops away from the east side that would be great,” he adds over his shoulder.

“Sure,” Ushijima says. “Oh, and Shirabu?”

“Yes, your Majesty?” 

“You can bind his hands in front of him for now.”

Shirabu wrinkles his nose at the realization that Tendou can’t exactly relieve himself properly without Shirabu adjusting his bindings. He sighs, accepting the advice with a nod, and changes his destination to find Goshiki to help him change Tendou’s bindings. Or more precisely, to keep Goshiki’s sword raised as Shirabu unchains his arms, and binds them once more. Just in case the monster attempts to attack Shirabu, he’d have someone watching his back.

...

Tendou ends up stretching his wings after Shirabu leads him a meter into the forest, leaving behind Goshiki, who Tendou likes to think simply stood there for decoration. The young teen's hands were practically shaking as he held out his sword, and Tendou watched amused as Shirabu cussed at Goshiki for being far too terrified for someone as thin as Tendou, betting that the dragon couldn’t even hold Goshiki’s sword. Tendou would’ve stolen the sword from Goshiki but knew he wouldn’t have a chance escaping with a large camp swarming with highly trained Knights and only a single meal sitting in his stomach.

And so when they reach the spot of trees Tendou is supposed to pee in, he releases his wings for a little stretch. They cramp a tiny bit, as expected. But it’s pleasant to have them out for once, against the wind nipping at his scales. He represses a shiver, because his clothing is not exactly equipped to warm his thin limbs, being half-teared open and all.

“Hey! What are you doing?!” Shirabu half-yells, half whispers, sounding like a blood vessel is about to be popped off his head. 

“Letting out my wings,” Tendou explains, flapping them into Shirabu’s face who sputters at the action. Tendou holds in his giggles, not wanting Shirabu to punch him and continues speaking with his voice clear and steady. “They cramp you know. That box doesn’t exactly have space for winged monsters, does it? I bet it was made for human prisoners or chickens.”

Shirabu pushes Tendou back into the shadows of the trees and hisses into the dragon’s ear. “Speak quietly or the others will hear and come over and see _that_.”

“What am I, the King’s big secret now?” Tendou asks, elbowing Shirabu playfully despite his arms being restricted. “What exactly do they think I am?” 

“A nuisance,” Shirabu deadpans, kicking him forward to do his business.

Tendou grins over his shoulder and lifts his bound arms into Shirabu’s line of sight. “Can’t exactly be a nuisance like this, can I?”

“Just do your business already, you ugly monster.”

“A monster, maybe. But ugly, now that’s just plain cruel, Shirabu,” Tendou fake pouts, gasping airily to irritate Shirabu further as he begins to ‘do his business’ so to speak. He knows Shirabu can't exactly stop watching him so to lessen the general ridiculousness of the situation and second-hand embarrassment, Tendou relieves himself by turning away from Shirabu so all the Knight can see is his back. 

His eyes water slightly, which is strange, so he sniffs and for some reason he thinks he can taste and smell smoke. It has a smidge of clogging up one’s air. When a person cannot help but wrinkle their nose at the obvious sting it causes their lungs. A burning sensation that mirrors how a fire consumes anything it touches. 

He hastily slides his pants up, continuing to sniff the air. Narrowing his eyes at the trees in front of him he internally rationalizes that it has only just reached nightfall so to smell a thick smoke such as this that hurts his eyes is very odd. The moon and stars blinking above them hands them all plenty of light so starting a large campfire seems pointless. He is half-certain the smoke is rancid, and all encompassing, a large amount that isn’t typical for a tiny bonfire. At this point, Tendou’s eyes are blinking to retain moisture and as he hobbles up the tiny ditch to reach Shirabu.he says, “I smell smoke.” 

“Smoke?” Shirabu questions. “What are you talking about, I don’t smell anything.”

“I could’ve sworn that…” Tendou mumbles, confused. He retracts his wings just in case someone shows up between the trees, with a torch held up to burn his wings or to attack them. He peers into the woods with a final glance, before Shirabu mutters, “Come on.” The Knight grabs onto his elbow, pulling him away from the forest. It is only by the force of the other man's grip that Tendou turns his head away from those dark lines of trees.

Stumbling beside Shirabu with the Knight's unrelenting grip on his upper arm, they move back across the camp. The place is vacant of any other soldiers, which is strange because when they had walked by earlier they were at least one or two men talking beside their tents, distracted and not paying attention to them at all. Tendou stares at the tents curiously, but Shirabu pulls him along, insistent on their steady pace back to Tendou's cart. 

As they turn a corner past a barrel of ale, they hear odd noises and that is when the two men both smell it.

Smoke. 

It clouds the air, fanning up into the sky and below it a blue-red mass of fire is singing a tent in the middle of the camp. Shirabu’s eyes are alight, head turning back to Tendou, then once again to the tent as if he had any hand in starting a fire whilst he was peeing by the trees. Tendou may be a multi-tasker on some occasions, but this wasn't one of them.

A couple of knights are throwing buckets of water, including Goshiki, judging by the clearcut bob of black hair Tendou can recognize shining against the embers of the fire. The grassy ground is lit up brightly, the tent a swarming ball of heat that is alluring to stare at. Fire is a destructive beauty in Tendou's mesmerized eyes, his feet heavy as lead and unable to move at the burning flames in front of him. 

The thick fire appears as tall as Shirabu and is about to catch onto the tent beside it as well. Flames trail onto the grass without the Knights’ notice, too occupied on the tent in front of them. Shirabu points out the fire that spreads out to one of the Knights pushing past them and directs the man to throw the pail to the right side to save the second tent. 

The Knight holding the pail spares Shirabu and Tendou no second glance, not even checking who gave him the order or that the same man is currently beside a bound up person. The man's face is white as a sheet, eyes focused on the second tent and jogging towards it so as to not lose any of the water he gathered.

Shirabu practically drags Tendou away and throws him back into the cart, eager to rid the burden of watching Tendou so he can assist his troops in putting out the fire. The actions from the man are so harsh, Tendou is out of breath by the time he falls into the cart.

Tendou can hear the murmurs of people giving out directions, but not much else over the crackling of fire. He has always had an affinity for sensing the element, so those crackles of energy burst into his ears steadily. The sound lessens and Tendou assumes when the crackles ebb away that they have successfully put out the fire. Which is a relief, considering he's currently sitting in a very flammable prison without an escape. 

It is at least an hour before the doors open once more, revealing a displeased Shirabu whose eyes are the equivalent of daggers. Goshiki is by his side, seeming to be holding the shorter man’s shoulder back. Shirabu is heaving in anger, voice high and breathy. He half-chokes out his next words.

“Look what you’ve done now, you filthy _beast_.”

Tendou says plainly, “I didn’t do it. If you seriously think I did, then you’re an idiot.”

“You’re a dragon, for Gods sakes, of course you can start fires!” Shirabu screeches, taking a step forward. Goshiki grips onto Shirabu's maroon cape, pulling the man back forcefully, his eyes pleading.

“I told you already, to leave it for tomorrow. We can talk about this in the morning, after you get some rest.” Goshiki speaks in a low volume, but Tendou can hear the calm voice quite clearly without having to strain himself. Tendou also notices how the lantern in Goshiki's other hand lights up both their faces that reveal the purple lines under their eyes. Tendou supposed while he has dozed off during the daytime, getting plenty of rest, the Knights have been tirelessly working. Tendou recalls how they had also retrieved him at dawn despite staying up late for Saito's meeting. The lack of sleep seems to be getting to Shirabu, or maybe it's the threat of an unknown enemy he cannot believe now exists.

“In the morning! Are you crazy, he’s sitting right in our camp, who knows what he can do to us next while we're all asleep!”

“He couldn’t have done it, Shirabu. The fire started earlier, you both weren’t on the west side of the camp,” Goshiki points out and grips onto both of Shirabu's shoulders, so the man is facing Goshiki rather than Tendou. The red dragon smiles at the actions of the younger man, thinking at least one person is not irrationally blaming everything onto Tendou simply because he is a magical creature that is strange to them. He’s got to give the boy some respect for facing his superior so confidently. Goshiki eyes Tendou warily and proceeds to calm Shirabu down with more assurances of their safety.

Still, when Shirabu meets his eyes, agreeing to Goshiki that he’ll get some rest, Tendou cannot stop himself from acting impulsively. It’s too good of a chance to pass up. So he grins, waggling his eyebrows and Shirabu levels him with a glare that could kill as the doors creak closed. 

Tendou falls back into a heap of loud giggles, unable to withhold his amusement of that spoiled milk face Shirabu keeps making. Wow, it may have been an uneventful afternoon, but at least Shirabu is somewhat amusing to piss off. He freely hands Tendou exaggerated reactions that the others don’t seem to grant him so easily, which he truly appreciates. The loss of the snobby man’s serious expression confirms that these people are breakable in the long term.

...

As they move Southwest, the weather begins to get more suitable. Snow no longer lines their clothes, but instead wet grounds and sunny skies shine onto open fields bare of snow. There is a slight chill, but not to the extreme as early February when they rode into Hama.

Ushijima pulls on his chestnut mare’s reins, successfully turning on the dirt road before them. His horse’s hooves sink into the wet mud, dirtying it’s legs further. The rest of his army trots behind him, casual in their movements, without the rush of a fight to pull them forward they all seem to be enjoying the soon-to-be crops of wheat and vegetables they pass. 

They greet the occasional farmer that waves to get a glimpse of Shiratorizawa’s gallant Knights and the young King. Many of the Knights eagerly wave back, almost falling off their horses at the rare human attention due to being surrounded by unresponsive forest trees for so long. Ushijima believes this excitement will be temporary once they pass through this miniscule village and move into the deserted wet fields of grass that will grow wildflowers in the upcoming Spring.

As Ushijima brushes the dark hair of his mare, Shirabu says, “I don’t trust him.”

“No one does. He is a dragon.” Ushijima blinks forward, not bothering to turn his head to converse with Shirabu. He would rather avoid having to talk to the man about the dragon again. It’ll only cause Ushijima a headache for having to explain his rationality in his decisions. A decision that should not be questioned in the first place by a simple Knight.

That morning, they had talked down Shirabu from storming towards Tendou's cart with a violent desire to wring the dragon's neck. Currently, Shirabu’s hands are clenching around his sienna-brown horse reins, the tendon in his neck flaring between deep breaths. He sits stiffly to Ushijima's right, the spot usually reserved for Leon. Ushijima suspects that Leon had been bribed by Shirabu's portion of fish and rice that they will eat over dinner. He would have brought up the dishonorable tactic to Leon, but Ushijima decides it's better to have the simmering Knight beside him so he can keep an eye on him and ensure he is as far away from Tendou as possible. 

Earlier Shirabu had declared he wouldn't deal with bringing Tendou his meals, so Ushijima entrusted the task to Goshiki for the meantime. He’s assured that the young kid could handle Tendou on his own since Ushijima directly asked him to take care of the task. Goshiki had practically sparkled akin to a star as he stared up at Ushijima for handing him a new responsibility, one that no one else in the camp could handle, Leon had helpfully added in to excite Goshiki even further. 

He thinks Shirabu is of sound mind and is even one of the smartest Knights in his force who thinks strategically well, but the concept that Tendou started that fire is ludicrous. It must have been the wind that spurred the fire further than intended. Or alternatively, a Knight had knocked a lantern over by accident with their foot. Most importantly, as Goshiki and Leon both reminded Shirabu this morning, Tendou had been with Shirabu on the edges of the camp, far away from the large mass of fire. Tendou could not have possibly started that fire being so far away and preoccupied in front of a tree.

Also, no one had been injured. Therefore the only downside was people were moved to other tents and likely had less room to stretch at nighttime. His troops' safety are his priority so Ushijima is grateful for the lack of injury and damage in the grand scheme of their journey home. 

Shirabu peers behind them, his brown eyes focused on Goshiki behind them. Likely to ensure the younger Knight is following the proper positioning of their lines. Ushijima glances at Shirabu, but doesn’t follow his gaze to Goshiki, trusting that the kid is following directions amiably now that he’s promoted and has proved himself over this campaign.

Shirabu turns forward and his eyebrow twitches. He’s definitely still irritated, Ushijima thinks.

“Of course, King Ushijima. I trust all of your decisions. I’m just reminding you to be careful,” Shirabu says.

His voice is soft and Ushijima can tell by the man's refusal to look directly into Ushijima’s eyes that he is worried for him. Shirabu can’t crack his smooth facade of confidence, even to the King. And if he does, he’ll refuse to express his worry to Ushijima’s face, he'll get around it by avoiding eye contact. These subtle actions are what play before Ushijima’s eyes.

Ushijima reminds, “I’m always careful, Shirabu. It’s what I do daily as King of Shiratorizawa.” 

The twitch on Shirabu’s eyebrows eases as does the straightness of his back, now slumped an inch more forward. Ushijima nods and Shirabu stares at the greenery around them, of what would soon bloom into flowers once Spring emerged.

♠♠♠

At age twelve, Ushijima witnessed his mother’s return back home along with the Knights sworn to protect the Queen.

He watched their return through the window of the library where his tutor had slammed a thick tome over his head for him to concentrate on the tiny black words in front of him. Ushijima hated to admit it, but he preferred the openness of the air outside and the looseness of moving his limbs on the training field over being cooped up in a dusty library. 

He longed to switch places with his mother down below, whose hair sprung in elegant black waves after she took off her helmet covered in dirt. 

The wind swept strands of her ponytail into her face and her mouth remained unmoving. Her eyes were a mirror of Ushijima’s olive irises and unwilling to so much as blink away her focus. It was as if she were still in mid-battle despite being surrounded by cheering comrades, visiting nobles, and of her maidservant Miss Kawanishi who approached the Queen with open arms. The ginger haired woman took the horse reins on the Queen's behalf.

His tutor, a man with wrinkled eyelids and who distinctly smelled like waxy candles whacked his head again. This time the book was thicker and Ushijima flinched at the hard impact, the back of his head becoming sore. “Keep working on that reading. You won’t study the history of Shiratorizawa through the window.”

Ushijima blinked up at him, shoulders still slightly turned to the window. 

The elderly man sighed, “There will be a celebration later tonight in honour of the Queen’s actions. There’s no need to waste time when you’ll see her later.” He adjusted his spectacles that fell to the tip of his nose so that they sat snugly, but they still tilted, slightly crooked and Ushijima had to contain a smile at the sight.

He wanted to be more like his mother, who excelled at fighting as well as her studies. His tutor said his mother had been a bookworm and was often found holed up in the library when she was Ushijima’s age, but the young Prince never felt a similar urge, which bothered him. His Mother kept reminding him that a future King must have knowledge in order to take on Shiratorizawa's people. ‘To be misinformed is the first step towards failure,’ she always said. 

Later in the afternoon he had to meet with Washijou-sensei for a lesson of sparring as well, but for now he must read the book that sat patiently in front of him. Ushijima decided that greeting his mother could wait as his tutor argued.

Ushijima began to read again, his finger placed onto the rough paper to follow inked letters and hoped he wouldn’t get lost once again.

♠♠♠

That night, there was indeed a celebration.

An entire feast was made with the excuse to party and enjoy themselves, before the court had to get lost in political matters or trade deals once more. The Queen and her soldiers had dealt with the skirmishes at the heart of the neighboring city because of the rumoured dissent for the Queen. As directed by their Queen the infamous Knights of Shiratorizawa had physically reminded them who their leader was through a skillful attack of the rebels' home base.

Shiratorizawa was known for their brute strength and intimidation. His mother was no joke when it came to battle, she’d disarm a man with her hands tied behind her and without a weapon by using her wits and her enemy’s weapon against themselves. Ushijima longed to spar with her, but she was always busy with nobles or spoke to Washijou in whispers about the King of Seijoh’s potential plans, Ushijima guessed. 

They were allies, but the kindness seemed temporary and pulled taught as if about to break to pieces. Ushijima had only heard of the brief war against Seijoh through his textbook more than by those around him, for Ushijima hadn’t been born yet when it had happened. He learned in the history book his tutor forced him to read they had come to a treaty in its end, which Shiratorizawa still abided by. There was some animosity that lingered from Seijoh’s King, only felt in the subtle twitch of the man’s lips when he gazed upon Ushijima’s mother. 

Though, Ushijima didn’t hate the royal family’s children. Their eldest daughter was a gorgeous young woman, rumoured to catch the attention of all noblemen in their eagerness to obtain her hand in marriage. And the second child, Oikawa Tooru, despite his dislike for Shiratorizawa’s sole Prince, Ushijima held no ill will to him personally. In fact, he childishly hoped Shiratorizawa could maintain peace with them to stop future bloodshed. But if Seijoh wanted to shed blood, he knew his mother wouldn’t stop them. She wasn’t the type of Queen to say no to a challenge.

Ushijima arrived at the celebration in the fancy robes the Queen requested him to wear. Hayato-san had helped him into the maroon accented tunic buttoned all the way to his neck. He was the young man who took care of the Prince upon the Queen’s request. Ushijima thought he could dress himself, but never complained since that would be rude to Hayato’s intentions. He didn’t like to call Hayato a servant, because Ushjima respected him and viewed him as an older brother. 

Even in a lonely castle, Ushijima still had Hayato-san, who gave large smiles and the best hugs he could ask for. Ushijima had once begged to be held in Hayato’s arms when he was five years old, despite Hayato being only thirteen at the time.

On that Spring day, Ushijima walked into the celebration on his own, without the usual shadow of Hayato by his side now that he was older and he felt trepidation as well as a thrill at this newfound freedom he had earned. 

They ate the well-prepared dishes of the famous Cook who worked in their kitchens. The large portions of meat glistened and the heat of the first course infected the air so that Ushijima felt sweat forming on the back of his neck. He adjusted his collar, too tight on his neck. A Prince must look presentable, but he was never that interested in maintaining a perfected appearance like his Mother did. He was simple as his Father, who still wore his comfortable armor. His father freely laughed and snorted loudly by his mother’s side at the head of the table. 

This was before they had no longer loved one another. 

There was a clear warmth that still curled at the edges of their eyes when their faces met by accident as they piled their plates. At least twice that night, Ushijima’s father would put a turkey leg on his mother’s plate without her even forming a single request as if he knew she were still hungry.

Afterwards, his parents danced, as did many others. Ushijima watched on the sidelines, encapsulated by the hot air which surrounded them. The celebration had built up to such a glee that people who would normally sit stiffly without a single smile now stood amidst drunkards that hobbled into pseudo-dances of Shiratorizawa tradition. Their limbs moved with a hilarity that caused bouts of laughter and cheers to drink some more. This sight was a well-deserved break from a boring historian tutor and the soreness attributed by Washijou-sensei’s tough training. His legs still ached from the sprints he was told to make in the late afternoon.

His eyes noticed the sight of a familiar face, thought not a person he was particularly close to. Shirabu Kenjirou trailed after his older brother, Tatsuya, who attempted to lose the younger boy stuck to his back. The older brother tried to use the rowdiness of the crowd to his advantage and Ushijima watched the game of cat and mouse as they sped into his section. He knew the both of them due to their father’s membership to the Queen’s guard. Their father had been one of the many men who had helped his mother gain success on their mission. Ushijima didn't know much about Sir Shirabu, other than that he appeared intimidating and had a scar that fell over his nose. As a little kid Ushijima used to think they had reattached the man's nose, but now he realized it must have just been the slice of a weapon, not strong enough to break a bone. 

He lost track of their movement and was glancing around when he heard the gasp of a noblewoman behind him. 

Tatsuya pushed past Ushijima. The man barely spoke an apology over his shoulder to the Prince and bolted between the couples who danced in grand arcs of smooth shapes across the shining floor. Ushijima wasn’t particularly annoyed by this refusal of respect to bow to him since Tatsuya held his head high and rarely lowered it to anyone other than the Queen. 

By some strange accident, the younger Shirabu also jostled into Ushijima, but instead ended up slamming into the Prince's back in a rush to reach his older brother. He fell down unceremoniously and landed on his butt. The boy blinked up at Ushijima with wide light brown eyes that gave away his naive age. Seeming to recognize who he ran into, his mouth dropped open. 

He pleaded, "Sorry, your Majesty!"

Ushijima held his hand out and gestured for Shirabu to take it. "It's all right, it was only an accident. Let me help you up."

The young boy trembled up to his feet and hid his hands behind his back. Meekly he looked down at the ground, unable to meet Ushijima's gaze.

Ushijima acknowledged him, “You are Shirabu-san’s youngest son, right?” 

At the mention of his father, Shirabu's face hardened into a serious expression. He pushed his shoulders back to emphasize his status as a son of a Shirabu, a line of knights that served the crown for generations. “Yes, Prince Ushijima.” 

“Just Ushijima is fine.” He felt it was strange for a young boy to refer to him as a Prince when it was likely they would be comrades in the future and work alongside one another. He wanted a similar closeness that his Father had with the court's Knights, as if he were simply another one of them rather than an outsider.

“But Ushijima-san, you’re older than me, I can’t say your name without the appropriate acknowledgement of your status,” Shirabu replied, his voice firm. Ushijima was impressed that the boy who previously trembled at Ushijima's stoic gaze now stood unbothered by offering his opinion on how he'd like to address Ushijima. It was very diplomatic coming from the mouth of an eleven year old boy. He also knew words that Ushijima only just learned how to use properly. 

Thoroughly impressed by Shirabu, Ushijima said, “If that is what you prefer, then call me that.” 

Shirabu bowed to the Prince for the perfect length of time, no more than five seconds. He said, “Yes, Ushijima-san. Enjoy your night.” 

“As do you,” Ushijima replied.

♠♠♠

The next time he saw Shirabu was at the training grounds.

He happened to be passing by and recognized the brown hair. It was longer than Ushijima's simple style. Shirabu's thin hair landed up to his chin, Ushijima remembered how it sat flat down at the party. How it nearly covered his right eye due to its length. This time, Shirabu had tied up his hair with a red ribbon, to avoid the blockage of his vision, Ushijima guessed. 

The kid practiced alone with a wooden sword that he likely took from the guard’s weapon shed. From the sideline, Ushijima corrected Shirabu’s posture. Since Leon was away studying downtown amidst other commoner boys while Ushijima was confined to the castle walls to be tutored, he hadn’t had the chance to spend time with anyone near his age for an extended time. 

Shirabu was different, he often wrinkled his nose at Ushijima’s points, while Leon was the type to laugh or smile more often. But ultimately, Shirabu listened. And most importantly, he wasn’t embarrassed when he didn’t get it right. He kept going at his practice without rest. The dedication in his eyes was burning deeply, Ushijima could tell this even from a distance. 

Before Ushijima could offer Shirabu a compliment for his last swing of his weapon, a voice boomed behind him, and called his name. Ushijima recognized the familiar exasperated tone and turned his head just as the man stumbled beside the Prince.

“There you are!” Hayato breathed heavily, bent over his knees. After ten seconds, the man caught his breath enough to meet Ushijima’s expectant eyes. 

Hayato tapped his foot, eyes stern. “You went and ran off right after you finished studying, didn’t you?” He frowned down at the Prince, thoroughly unimpressed by the twelve year old’s actions. 

“Sensei told me I could leave.” 

“My job is to bring you to the kitchens for lunch! Don’t make my work even more complicated than it needs to be!” Hayato said with his hands on his hips.

Ushijima apologized, “Sorry Hayato. But you were late, so I assumed my parents had you doing more important things than giving me lunch.”

“Can you not talk down on my job to ensure you're taken care of?’” he shook his head, knowing that Ushijima would only blink and leave the rhetorical question unanswered.

Hayato held out his hand, “Come on, let’s go.”

Ushijima took his hand, because he didn’t want Hayato to scold him even further even if it looked embarrassing to Shirabu who watched the two interact with keen interest. The Prince wondered if Hayato and Shirabu already knew one another since they both frequented the castle daily.

Hayato stepped forward, but paused his movements to address the boy who still gripped tightly onto his wooden sword. “Shirabu-chan, tell your brother I said hi and that he needs to stop stealing pastries from Kuribayashi-san’s oven.”

“I will, Hayato-san,” Shirabu bowed in a respectful farefull and Ushijima allowed Hayato to pull him back to the castle. He couldn’t stop himself from looking back once to see if his suspicions were correct.

And they were, Shirabu had already turned back to his previous position and swung his sword in the correct posture.

...

It has been a week and a half of travel so far and Tendou has no idea how long it takes to travel all the way to the castle. He is only familiar with the northeast parts of Shiratorizawa, where large forests and the mountains reside that many avoid in favour of brightly lit up streets or welcoming fields where farmers tended to various types of plants.

After the fiasco with the tent on fire nothing substantial or dramatic has happened. Even if the lack of interesting events means the humans don’t beat him or yell at him, he is beginning to find himself bored of the mundanity of it all. Dragons are meant to be isolated creatures. According to his parents in the beginnings of time dragons had lived alone in caves. Worshipped by humans who thought their magic was the work of Gods and dragons were content on their own after coming of age. But Tendou himself has always felt the opposite. He thrives on attention and conversation. Even if it’s with his sworn enemy, he’ll likely still chat their ear off to gain a reaction that is amusing. 

Shirabu, the funny one, Tendou has decided to call him from now on, hasn’t even sent him any food lately– still sour about a dumb tent. The man is truly so petty that he won’t even throw Tendou a meal twice a day. Thus, his entertainment has been running low and he is currently walking beside the bowl-cut kid. Who may no longer be scared of Tendou by the casual way he steers a supposed ‘man-eating monster’ with a barely felt grip around his elbow. 

So there will be no more fun reactions from Goshiki, like when it appeared like he was about to vomit in the grass the first time he had come to deliver Tendou’s tray of meat after Shirabu ran with his tail between his legs. Tendou prefers to not be vomited on, so he’ll take the change in Goshiki’s actions as a lucky development he shouldn’t cast away by acting hastily for some short-lived amusement. Tendou may enjoy stirring up trouble, but he’ll take the mundanity while it lasts wholeheartedly and without complaint. 

He follows the practiced steps of their nightly trips to the forest edge. Goshiki allows him some semblance of privacy as he usually does by staring at a tree or some other object to direct his gaze at anyone but Tendou who squats in some bushes.

They walk back in comfortable silence, but Goshiki must want to chat or he’s physically incapable of containing his thoughts because he begins chatting about his day and some other Knight named Taichi who had made fun of Goshiki for tripping over a bucket of water at camp on his way to get Tendou’s dinner.

“It was so embarrassing, gah!” Goshiki exclaims.

“Sounds hilarious.”

“It wasn’t funny!”

“Whatever you say, kid,” Tendou shrugs. He can now do the action easily with his hands bound in front of him. Thankful for the newfound position of his bound hands, Tendou is able to relax his limbs more than he usually could back in Hama. It’s these small niceties which he appreciates in comparison to the previous state he lived in. From Goshiki’s daily visits, he knows that he won’t starve in Shiratorizawa. The assurance of this fact is a welcome relief. 

“Well, it sure has been a long journey. Three weeks of travel really does a number on you. Getting to Hama felt ten times longer though because the weather was terrible then,” Goshiki says. 

“It takes three weeks to get back to your city?” Tendou echoes Goshiki’s previous statement. His eyes widen at the realization they still have plenty more journey before them.

Goshiki pales. “You didn’t know that?!” 

“Nobody told me anything,” Tendou reminds him. 

“Please don’t tell King Ushijima, I’m sorry!” Goshiki even bows violently, his nose almost touching his knees. Tendou is bewildered by the act of this kid bowing to a creature told to be below human status.

“I will take my job more seriously from now on!” Goshiki then salutes to Tendou, eyebrows furrowed in genuine determination. 

Tendou deadpans, “Yes, your job to let me piss. Really an admirable occupation.” He can’t pass up the chance to tease the kid a little. Perhaps this human isn’t so boring after all. The blush that mars Goshiki’s face is worth the comment. 

Tendou restrains the urge to pat the boy’s shoulder playfully. Instead, he interlocks his bound hands as if he is praying despite never quite believing the existence of any Gods. Not with the life he lives.

Goshiki glances around, shiftily, before whispering into Tendou’s ear, “So we’re halfway there already.” He tells Tendou this like the dragon cannot come up with the calculation on his own. Judging by the innocent smile on Goshiki’s face, the kid likely meant to be reassuring to Tendou rather than an insult to his arithmetic skills.

Tendou briefly understands from the smile touching the corner of his own cracking lips that he is becoming too soft on the young teen. On the way back he playfully nudges Goshiki’s arm with his elbow and the boy returns it, grin wide as he casually puts his hands behind his head to gaze up at the sky.

“Y’know Tendou, you’re a good listener.”

Tendou hums agreement, but forces himself to look away from the boy’s delighted expression. His stomach lurches, not from hunger or discomfort, but for a reason Tendou would rather avoid thinking too deeply over.

...

"So this Tendou dragon guy, what exactly does he look like, cause I don't think I can believe Goshiki's weird descriptions. He said he had glowy eyes, which I doubt," Taichi remarks to the Knights huddled by the river. They're all having a tiny break from riding, while the horses drink water from the river. Thankfully, Taichi says this while they are yards away from another group of Knights, that are talking at a much larger volume.

Shirabu hisses, "Goshiki, why did you tell Taichi-kun about the dragon, Ushijima told us all to keep it between us!"

"Wait! I thought you already knew!" Goshiki says, grabbing onto Taichi's forearms and shaking him desperately. 

"You're literally the only person who told me about our new secret cargo,” Taichi says, not even raising his voice in surprise at Goshiki’s frantic clench on his arms. He tilts his head and asks, “Goshiki, you outrank me now, don't you know that?"

"I do?" Goshiki questions.

Taichi says, "Yes. Ushijima promoted you, remember?"

"He did!” Goshiki screeches, and immediately he pivots on his foot to scramble in front of Shirabu. “Oh gosh, Shirabu-san, I'm sorry, I told Taichi-san by accident, really!" The young teen latches onto Shirabu's free arm that isn’t busy handing a carrot to his horse as a snack. 

Shirabu blinks, his face still as stone. "I just heard it all. No need to weep on my shoulder. Get. Off. Me." He swipes Goshiki's grappling hands away.

Leon says, "I can't believe you were forgetful enough that you didn't remember Ushijima's reasoning for inviting you that night." 

"I've been distracted lately, by you know- the secret," Goshiki leans over and whispers to Leon’s ear in a way that gathers even more attention than speaking normally would. 

Taichi rolls his eyes and reminds, "there's no need to whisper about it around me. I already know." He steps in front of Leon to hand the older Knight a pail of straw for his white gelding, who flicks his ears at the sight of the appealing straw. 

Shirabu says, "We need to show discretion Taichi, if you didn't realize."

"If you want to teach that, you should be looking at Goshiki, not me," Taichi points out.

"I can't disagree," Shirabu sighs and plops himself onto an ant-filled stump to ease his sore legs now that he has run out of carrots to give to his horse.

Goshiki pokes Taichi's arm, "It's also a habit of mine to report to all of you guys. Is it really that surprising that I would spill the beans to Taichi-san?"

Shirabu groans into reddened hands, despite the weather becoming warmer, Shirabu’s fingers still tremble on the first day of March. Exasperated by Goshiki’s words, Shirabu springs from the stump and grips onto his shoulders, fingers tight against the thick material of his grey cloak. 

Shirabu peers up at Goshiki, stern faced. "Just don't go blabbing about it to anyone else, got it?"

Goshiki salutes, hand raising. "Yes, sir!"

Deflating from Goshiki’s assurance, Shirabu steps away and levels Taichi with an unspeakable look that has the teen shrugging his shoulders and mock-zipping his mouth shut. When Shirabu turns back to Leon the man is beaming at the gelding that whinnies in response to Leon’s soft muttered compliment. Shirabu slumps back onto the stump, and cradles his chin onto his hands, bored of the hooligans surrounding him every moment of the day.

...

Tendou and Goshiki are once again standing beside thick trees.

As usual they make this trip for Tendou to stretch his wings and take a ‘shitting break’ as he’d like to call it, while the other men take a regular break over a fire pit. Their jaws bite onto half-burnt fish with a passion Tendou cannot find himself to share as he glances at the men from a distance, hidden by the trees. Tendou’s wings no longer cramp when he releases them, for he has been letting them out daily now and so they ease into a comfortable folded position on his back.

Goshiki mentions -not realizing he’s oversharing- that they will reach a town very soon, which means they will likely be staying in an inn from here on out. Tendou has been counting the days since Goshiki let it slip how long it takes to reach the city. He already knew they were getting closer to where most humans congregated due to the farm located past the forest trees. He could hear stray barks of a farm dog rounding up some cattle in the distance. 

Tendou half-heartedly extends his wings as Goshiki stretches his arms above his head. The two of them are a strange mirror of one another when another person joins them in the form of a ginger haired man walking into their path back to the cart.

In complete awe of the wings Tendou folds down smoothly, Taichi says, “I have to be imagining this, right? You guys said he was a dragon, but like, with actual wings?” 

Goshiki says, “Taichi!”

The young ginger-haired Knight, apparently named Taichi, stumbles past Tendou to get a better view of his wings. Tendou turns to face him, so that the armed man isn’t able to reach his vulnerable back. Humans hold an obsession over what they themselves cannot own. His parents’ wings were taken before they were murdered. A standard fate of a dragon Tendou has come to expect. So he frowns up at the excessively tall boy, unamused.

Tendou says, “I’m tired of hearing you nobles say the same dumb words. I’ve got wings. Big whoop.” He stalks back to his cart, fully intending to avoid all human activity in favour of staring at the grooves of the wooden cart walls. 

Of course he has no such luck, because once they emerge from the line of trees, only two yards from the cart, they run into the King and Shirabu, because the world seems to always work against Tendou’s desperate unconscious wishes. He shouldn’t be surprised anymore, considering his circumstances.

Tendou notices how Shirabu sighs at the sight of the beanpole-like knight with carrot-top hair. Tendou cannot move past them since Goshiki grabs his elbow and bows a standard greeting to Ushijima. Taichi does the same, but not as enthusiastically as Goshiki. 

Shirabu explains, “Taichi found out about him, Ushijima. I apologize, this only happened recently.” 

Ushijima turns away from the three newcomers and replies to Shirabu, “That’s no problem Shirabu. As long as we keep it between those we trust it will be fine. Don’t stress over the details.”

“Then you truly don’t know me because I always stress over the details.” Shirabu smiles up at Ushijima and Tendou frowns at the Knight’s rare pleased expression. He prefers the spoiled milk one, if he’s honest. It’s far more amusing.

“Goshiki is the opposite,” Taichi snorts. Goshiki complains, voice high, but Shirabu and Taichi both laugh at the kid’s expense, which is an odd sight to observe. These three young men are laughing so freely this close to a dragon and teasing one another similar to how friends would. Tendou half-wants to poke Shirabu in the eye with his sharp ebony nails to test if he’s actually real and not a figment of his imagination.

Ushijima’s face is still despite being surrounded by these amused Knights.

He longs to rip Ushijima’s throat out among these laughing knights to see a reaction. Any reaction at all from those unmoving olive green eyes and permanently neutral lips. Far too polite and orchestrated to such perfection that Tendou feels the beginnings of a growl building in the back of his throat.

To his annoyance, Ushijima’s body remains turned to face Shirabu and he motions for Shirabu to follow him back to the firepit. Shirabu nods and waves a hasty Goodbye to his fellow comrades as he rushes to the King’s side, his legs strained to keep up with Ushijima. 

Tendou snorts loudly, and Goshiki asks him what’s funny. Tendou shrugs and walks back to the cart with the two younger Knights on his heels.

...

They arrive at the castle with no set backs, just as Ushijima had wished.

Leon gazes up at the castle fondly as the troops hustle about to unpack all of their cargo. All except the grandest cargo of all - the gift that Ushiima had told him to leave unbothered until the rest of the knights are finished with their duties. Until the late afternoon, near nightfall when Ushijima will be able to secretly relocate Tendou into the castle. Judging by the placement of the sun in the sky, it will be very soon.

Leon continues directing the area Ushijima assigned him to. He helps direct a confused looking knight on where to place the saddles in the stables and pats the napping Taichi on the back of the head to remind him to get back to work. The teen frowns, but ultimately listens after Leon nudges him forward a second time. Shirabu chooses that exact moment to appear at the threshold of the stable.

Taichi stumbles off and Shirabu sighs, “This is chaos. Truly.”

“This happens every time, though. You would think you’d be used to it by now,” Leon remarks.

“And you’d also think that from repeating these procedures so many times that we’d be finished already.”

“I suppose you’re right on that,” Leon shakes his head. “Oh yeah, when I last talked to Ushijima he said that he couldn’t find his cloak. Have you seen it anywhere?” The cloak was a gift from the Queen and King that they gave Ushijima when he turned sixteen. The two Knights both know Ushijima would never dare to lose it, though he occasionally forgot the exact spot he left his items due his brain being wired to think ten steps ahead of everyone else. 

Shirabu says, “I think I have an idea of where he might’ve placed it. I think I saw it in the weapons cart, but I could be mistaken.” 

Leon thinks that Shirabu’s right. Ushijima may have felt warmer due to the sun’s harsh rays throughout the day along with being on his feet for such a long period of time. He could have discarded it in a hurry and no one dared to interrupt King Ushijima while he’s keen on having them finish their work. 

“I’ll go and grab it,” Shirabu decides and Leon nods in agreement. With Shirabu gone, he dismisses the Knights in front of him and reminds them all to get some rest. Leon then walks back to Ushijima to let him know the stables are in order. As he walks he eyes the setting sun and thinks that Tendou will be likely relocated very soon.

He catches sight of the empty carts, all properly unpacked and recognizes that the area is now empty save for Ushijima, Goshiki and Taichi who has now decided to sleep on a pile of straw someone had discarded. Leon kicks at Taichi who drowsily opens his eyes. 

“You should head to bed,” Leon says. “Your work is done for the day.”

He yawns dramatically. “I’ve been waiting all day for you to say that, man.” He stumbles away and gestures a lazy salute, “See you in twelve hours.”

Goshiki says, “He’s not seriously sleeping that long, is he?”

Leon mumbles, “He might.”

Ushijima says, “Goshiki, let Tendou out and bring him into the castle through the back passage, where you won’t run into anyone.”

“Yes, your Majesty!” 

Leon listens to the two as he squats down to grab the straw Taichi was snoozing on. He begins to take it to the fenced enclosure where the castle horses languidly graze the grass. So he’s distracted and staring at the horses that elegantly raise their heads at the sight of Leon when he hears the scream.

...

Ushijima finally unlocks him from the cage he has lived in for three weeks and Tendou frowns at the King's back. The way he nonchalantly has his arms crossed as if Tendou’s compliance to Shiratorizawa is unquestionable irritates him.

In front of him, Goshiki chats about how tired he is. Ushijima still isn't looking at Tendou. Fuck this all, he thinks, eyeing Goshiki's black hilted sword.

Tendou lunges at Goshiki's waist when the kid's back is turned. He's completely vulnerable and distracted. Tendou physically grabs at this rare chance of escape. With the lack of audience to witness it there are less people who could track him down if he succeeds. Thanks to his hands being cuffed in front of him, Tendou easily swipes the sword from its sheath. 

Still half-shocked by the sound of his sword, Goshiki isn't even spared a second to breathe before Tendou trips him using a well placed foot. The teenager yelps as he falls over, but it's too late to alert Ushijima because Tendou is already swinging his stolen weapon at the man's nape. Intent to kill or to decapitate that annoying head.

Ushijima dodges, body moving perhaps on some primal instinct developed from fighting in many battles. His neck is slightly nicked in the process on the right side of the King's neck. Only a single thin line of red forms, not even a deep cut to allow drops of blood to trickle. There is no satisfaction in the tiny injury and Tendou growls as Ushijima swiftly blocks the continued arc of his sword as gravity pulls it downwards.

Tendou spits out, “You do realize I’m here, right? Or do you plan to pretend I don't exist until nobles come to visit this shithole?”

They haven’t arrived for more than a couple hours and Tendou is already cussing out the new environment even if he hadn’t actually bothered to observe his surroundings properly. He had seen the sword left hastily in Goshiki’s belt without caution and took the chance, his instincts telling him to flee kicking into hyperdrive. Tendou doesn’t spare a glance at the squeak emerging behind him from Goshiki still sprawled on the grass.

Tendou slips to the side and attacks at an odd angle, hoping his speed catches Ushijima off guard. But the man blocks his fierce attack with no more than a blink. The crash of metal is satisfying to hear and familiar to a life that felt lost after he stepped onto a pirate's ship. Oh, how he missed the fire which curled in his veins at the risk of a well-matched scuffle. The weight of Ushijima's sword strains Tendou's muscles. A stolen sword shakes at the impact. His hand is unable to remain still from the force of Ushijima's defensive push forward.

Ushijima says, “Very solid move. Impressive, but there was no strength in the motion.” 

The King for once stares directly at Tendou rather than the swords tangled together between them. He hates that those eyes are still indifferent even after the clear act of betrayal Tendou has made. 

Where is his exaggerated reaction? Shouldn't the King be shaking in anger? Instead, Tendou's limbs feel numb, his elbow straining to maintain balance against the insistent force of Ushijima's arm. The man's sword is thinner than Tendou's, a mere smallsword and he doesn't seem worried in the slightest. Tendou grits his teeth.

Ushijima artfully pushes Tendou back, using upper body strength to his advantage against Tendou’s thin arms. The King’s wielded smallsword screeches loudly at his parry and Tendou’s eyes flick to the man's left hand. 

He didn't know that humans also fought with their left hand. The sight is odd to see on an individual as noble as a King. Tendou's father would always swap his sword between his two hands as he defended their family. His Dad was able to counter anyone with either hand, and caught his opponents by surprise at the sudden change of arm. Tendou is out of practice from that dragon technique, so he favours his right arm for familiarity. 

Also, he cannot switch hands when they are both cuffed together. Thus, he grips the sword in both of them, but favours his right arm which he can count on to deliver his blows. Luckily, Goshiki’s sword is meant to be held with both hands, so the action isn’t awkward to fulfill.

Ushijima says, “Let me do this by myself.” 

The King doesn’t falter in his stare forward at Tendou so he's confused as to who the man is even talking to, until he recognizes movement in his peripheral vision. To the right of the two mid-fight, Leon grips onto Goshiki's shoulder. The older knight holds Goshiki back from the fight with his eyebrows pulled together and mouth in a strict line. Tendou assumes Leon must have helped the kid up while Tendou was attacking.

Ushijima barely discerns Leon’s nod of approval, before Tendou is recklessly slamming his weapon into Ushijima's smallsword again as if he isn’t afraid of it tearing through the King’s limbs. 

Tendou says, “I’m tired of hearing you talking.”

“Then I won’t.” 

And so Tendou slinks back and stalks his prey. The sharp weapon weeping to shed more blood.

...

Tendou attacks.

Ushijima dodges and slashes back. Tendou slips away, quickly rolling sideways in the grass and stabbing up at Ushijima right side when he lands. Ushijima blocks. Tendou growls, and slowly rises to his feet. Steps to the side and aims for Ushijima's shoulder. Ushijima dodges and uses the hilt of his sword to bruise Tendou's left side.

The process repeats. A strange mess of heat and limbs and steel against steel. Leon can see Ushijima glowing at the strange tactics Tendou uses. The angles and timing of his attacks are off from how knights are trained. They're sporadic. All over the place. 

A teacher would call Tendou untrained and messy. Leon would call it the actions of a caged animal, ready to rip it's captors' limbs into shreds. The analogy may be a little too close to their current reality, though. Against what his father had taught him over the years as a Knight to the King, Leon stands in awe at the unpredictability of it all. It's an amazing fight to witness, even if Tendou half drowns at the force of Ushijima's blows he hasn't given up. He has multiple bruises on his ribs and back but he still stands up. Every time. 

Ushijima's eyes are so focused, Leon doesn't even think the man is quite seeing Tendou anymore. He is turning into the mindset he inhabits on the battlefield. Where the outer world disappears and Ushijima can only focus on the weapon being pointed at him, and what its future course of attack will likely be. No matter how sporadic Tendou is in his attacks, Ushijima will become used to them. He’s an immovable obstacle. Ushijima's feet barely even lift off the ground.

Goshiki is silent behind Leon, palms open and frozen in the spot. Leon couldn't offer more than simple vague assurances, too keen on keeping track of their King's status in battle against a magical creature. 

Footsteps from behind them emerge and Leon pivots to dissuade the person from coming close. But instead, it's Shirabu, who Leon had completely forgotten about. Shirabu's mouth gapes open in shock, the younger man's eyes consumed with horror at the danger Ushijima has put himself into.

Shirabu drops the cloak in his arms and rushes in with his right hand on his sword hilt, ready to attack Tendou from behind. Leon grips his arm, stopping Shirabu's sprint to aid the King. 

“Let him handle this,” Leon says.

“He’s a dragon, what are you doing?!” Shirabu seethes, attempting to pull his arm away.

Leon shakes his head. “He said he’d handle it.” He squeezes Shirabu's upper arm to convince him of this fact somehow.

“And you believed him?!" Shirabu shrieks. His voice is incredulous as if Leon and Goshiki are acting without any sanity while their King endangers himself.

A long hiss of metal resounds and they both turn their heads at the noise.

Ushijima slides back five paces from the force of Tendou's attack. The King, crouching as he slides back, grips the grass to ensure his balance. 

Shirabu gasps at the sight of their King being pushed and takes a step forward, eyes pleading. But Leon braces his chest, putting an arm out in front of Shirabu to still his action.

Leon orders: "STAND DOWN."

Shirabu’s eyebrows twitch, displeased, but the severity of Leon’s order has him freezing upon his request. He would never disobey a direct order from Ushijima, Leon knew this for a fact. 

They watch Ushijima recover from Tendou's blow and charge forward once more. Tendou meets him halfway in a crash of metal. 

"Is that Goshiki’s sword?” Shirabu asks, his voice cracked high in tension.

Goshiki cries into Leon’s shoulder, no longer frozen in shock. “I’m sorry, Leon-san, please forgive me!”

“There's no need to apologize, Ushijima can handle this,” Leon says. Ushijima counters Tendou who nearly topples into the fence which cages the horses. He somehow slinks away, but Leon can tell Tendou's actions have become sluggish, his energy drained. His next aimed strike is completely off.

Shirabu accuses, “The one you should apologize to is Ushijima for being a massive idiot and handing a weapon to a magical animal.” 

“I said I was sorry!” Goshiki wails.

“Quiet you two, I think Ushijima has got the upperhand. Though I’m surprised someone as thin as Tendou could last this long with Ushijima.” 

Shirabu peers back to the fight, his nagging now forgotten in favour of watching the certain steps of Ushijima in a battle. “He’s a dragon, they have magic on their side, it’s not his own strength that he has developed like King Ushijima has.”

As if Shirabu had willed the fight to end by the frown on his lips, Tendou receives a harsh attack to his ribs. The man drops his sword, fingers now slackened and mouth groaning in pain. Leon cringes at the sight, even if Ushijima used the hilt of his sword, it looks painful because he aimed it at an already bleeding spot.

...

Tendou crashes to the ground, fingers scrabbling in the grass. Black nails dig into the soil in an attempt to stabilize himself. He doesn't get back onto his feet immediately. Ushijima takes his chance like an eagle swooping in to capture its prey below him.

The King points his bloodstained weapon at Tendou’s heaving neck with sweat beading at his forehead. To Tendou’s dismay, Ushijima’s clothes are only in a slight disarray. No injury besides a bruise and the nick at his neck that Tendou gave him at the start of their fight is visible to the red haired man.

“Your hits were strategic, so your actions weren’t lacking, but the strength wasn’t there. Your muscles haven’t been properly exercised nor have you eaten enough to develop any substantial mass. Your failure in attack was inevitable,” Ushijima explains as he frowns down at the dragon. 

The King’s chest heaves from the exercise, but his limbs are not shaking as much as Tendou’s bound hands. Goshiki’s sword lays a metre away in proof of his flaws. Tendou glares, eyes stinging at fury or helplessness, he doesn’t know. 

He blatantly pushes his bare neck against Ushijima’s sword, crimson eyes lit in spiteful rage. Tendou states, “Nothing is set in stone, _Ushiwaka_. Not for someone like me, there’s alway an opening or a chance to win a fight.” Tendou’s lips creep up at the corners. Those raw red lips amused despite the still-aching bruises along his chest and the single wound Ushijima managed to land at his right hip. Tendou didn’t feel any of it. No pain. His eyes are purely set on the man before him he wanted to prove wrong.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, dragon boy, but you seemed to have lost terribly. So I’d watch your mouth if I were you.” Ushijima pokes his sword at the edge of Tendou’s curling lips. Somehow, the whites of his teeth emerge even further, showcasing pink gums. Ushijima says, “If you bow to me, perhaps I’ll forget this incident even happened.” 

Previously Ushijima had been distracted by the easy exercise of the fight, but now his blood boils at the implications - Tendou had attacked the back of his neck without hesitation at the first chance he had. Those chains won’t be coming off anytime soon and he’ll be sure to tie those treacherous hands behind Tendou’s back from here on out.

“I don’t bow to any King.” 

“You will,” Ushijima says with certainty, head held high, posture straight and elegantly sheathing his sword. Turning his back on the shaking dragon, he says, "Welcome to Shiratorizawa, Tendou Satori. It would be wise of you to never make the mistake of attacking me again, I can't promise I won't slit your throat next time." 

Tendou touches his neck as if Ushijima had touched it himself, the hairs rising on his nape. "How impolite of a _high class_ King," Tendou spits out to cover the trembling of his limbs that he doesn't think he can move without assistance. "Don't you know you should look at a person when you speak to them?"

"I don't spare attention to something I have no time for," Ushijima replies, his cold back all Tendou can peer up at.

Ushijima orders Leon with a nod of his head to the broad Knight's direction. “Rechain his hands behind him. And take him to the cells. Shirabu will take the next guard at dawn.” 

With that, Ushijima walks away and refuses to look at Tendou for an entire week. Leon is not surprised, all things considering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hayato is a servant who begins work at a young age into his adulthood. So he tended to Ushijma since he was a toddler! As indicated in this flashback despite how fondly Ushijima remembers his mother, she wasn't always there for him and was often busy. He often hyper focuses on the happier memories in the present timeline then at ones he doesn't wish to remember where is mother may be neglectful of him. More will be described and revealed of his parents 'dynamic' so to speak, which I'm excited about! I added in Oikawa just because I love him and wanted to include more on the Seijoh-Shiratorizawa tension over land ownership. Basically Shiratorizawa owns the most land out of the neighboring countries not separated by the sea. 
> 
> Shirabu's brother name is Tatsuya which means "One who is well accomplished" which can give you an idea of what he is like as a person. 
> 
> Hope you're all doing well, and feel free to comment your thoughts, feelings or theories on this Travel chapter! :)


	4. it isn’t home till it’s sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tendou faces a new prison cell under a different ruler, Leon contemplates the past him and Ushijima have left behind them and Hayato tries to make sense of it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention at the end of the last chapter, but I noticed as I was editing that Shirabu mentioned jokingly that Tendou wouldn't be able to even hold Goshiki's sword when they rebound his arms. And then at the end of the chapter Tendou literally steals the sword and has a whole fight with it! The irony!!! Honestly when I wrote that line about Shirabu dissing Tendou and Goshiki in the same breath I didn’t intend for it to foreshadow or be ironic, but as I read the chapter over while editing I realized i foreshadowed the end lol, I guess my brain unconsciously knew to hint at it!
> 
> Also, the wonderful @thefabledpots [@soybean-official on tumblr] drew some beautiful fanart of Tendou with his wings out!! The art piece looks very accurate to how I envision Tendou for this fic, so definitely go check out their post and give it some love! https://soybean-official.tumblr.com/post/619516697504825344/i-wanted-to-try-and-sketch-what-tendou-looks-like

Leon sighs and slides a hand over his face.

He’s at a loss of words from witnessing such a terrible outcome. Standing with fatigue crawling at the edges of his eyes, Leon doesn’t exactly wish to deal with the repercussions of the King and dragon’s excessive actions. He couldn’t quite believe how terrible Tendou looks and would rather avoid looking at the injured red-haired man directly. 

He has seen many war-wounds on enemies of Shiratorizawa, but those people were strangers more often than not. Never a person Leon has met personally and even handed a meal to weeks ago when Shirabu had scampered off at Tendou’s snappy remarks. That instance felt so long ago, he misses the simpler existence they inhabited as they travelled. Returning to the castle is a shock of reality far more startling than a bucket of ice cold water ever could be. 

Shirabu approaches Leon and crosses his arms. "Do as Ushijima said. Send him to his cell." He tilts his head to indicate Tendou who is still seething at the ground. At least that is what Leon suspects he’s doing. He could possibly be hyperventilating. Leon looks away from Tendou’s shaking form and meets Shirabu’s frown with his head held high and shoulders back.

"Yes, I know, Shirabu." He is the first guard and he’ll act as Ushijima asks, without question. It is his duty to follow their King and be the first wall of protection when they faced enemies on the battlefield. Their current enemy is in the form of a talkative dragon person, a man who attacks bare necks of Kings without a single moment of hesitation. 

This close to Tendou, he can see the red scales at the back of his neck. He can also see the end of the thin red lined wound from Ushijima’s sword when Tendou had carelessly pushed his neck against the blade. Those abnormally long nails are covered in dirt and right above Tendou’s right hip a wound has stained his musty white shirt with his blood. Not a worrying amount to be fatal, but enough for Leon to frown at the sight. Overall, he’s a general mess and Leon doesn’t think he should be sitting in the mud to welcome an infection to his wound.

Leon reaches out his hand for Tendou to grab onto. "Come on, I'll help you up."

Tendou slaps the open palm away with his bound hands. "I don't need some _human's_ help to get myself up." 

The red haired man stands on his own, albeit with wobbly legs. Leon observes that the lower half of Tendou’s body is unhurt from the lack of any visible grimace as he puts weight on his legs. The first guard opens his palm out to Shirabu for the key to unlock Tendou’s chains, and Shirabu practically smacks the key into his innocent palm. The iron metal digs into his skin at Shirabu’s hasty action, but he won’t complain when Tendou’s wrists are likely bruised yellow from heavy chains tightened to nearly inflict pain. 

Leon turns back to Tendou and silently adjusts the man’s bound hands, feeling Shirabu’s heated gaze at Tendou even without turning his head around. With Tendou’s hands now bound behind him as Ushijima ordered, they’re ready to go.

"Just walk me to where I'm going to be held so I can get this shit over with," Tendou says, his thin eyebrows furrowed. He gazes forward, without turning his head to speak to Leon guiding his elbow. Tendou had snapped at the offer of his hand but he doesn't complain at Leon’s action of controlling Tendou’s movement with a grip on his pointy right elbow.

Leon listens to the dragon’s request and starts leading Tendou around the side of the castle. Tendou observes the courtyard in silence, seeming uninterested in the posh benches and granite statues of Shiratorizawa’s previous rulers that they pass.

The Knight abandons his grip on Tendou’s elbow when they lose sight of Shirabu and Goshiki as they turn a corner. Instead, he walks ahead of Tendou, trusting that the man meant his earlier words of following Leon. Also, the man knew Tendou wouldn't be able to make it past the castle walls. Their walls are impenetrable for a good reason and armed to the teeth with a perfected rotation of guard shifts. 

Over his shoulder Leon says, "I did tell you to cooperate. Getting on Ushijima's bad side isn't the answer." 

Tendou’s immediate grimace at the Knight’s suggestion destroys any presumed boredom on the man’s face. 

"Why do I have to play nice to anyone?” Tendou retorts, his eyes rolling in annoyance. “For what, pulling me in a cart for three weeks?” He cackles at the notion, Tendou’s voice a high screech of a sound. Leon wonders if that is what dragons normally sound like if they spoke amongst themselves freely. Loud and screechy, like bats. Or perhaps deadly crows. Since Tendou is the last of his kind, he supposes he’ll never know the answer.

Tendou calms down after his tiny bout of laughter and sardonically adds, “Yeah, _thanks for that_. I really enjoyed the time we all bonded and sang together. I’m glad that I met you all, your hospitality is _wonderful_." 

Slowing down to match Tendou’s pace and walking beside him shoulder to shoulder, Leon replies with a frown, "You can't blame us for our wariness. You're an enemy of humanity and were given to us by a previous enemy of ours. We can't just let our guard down."

"If you did, escaping would be _so_ much easier on me."

"Hey," Leon stops, sending him a disapproving look. "Don't do that."

"Not letting me speak now? Oh, how could I possibly be unhappy?" Tendou mocks, his canines showing as he grins.

Leon sighs, pulling him forward by the elbow again. "You'll drive yourself to an early grave at this rate." Tendou stumbles at Leon’s sudden tug of his arm. He snorts in response to Leon's genuine remark as if the Knight were joking about pigs flying as Goshiki had brought up more than once, half-joking over a late dinner. 

"I'm already headed there anyways, why not get to it over with just a bit sooner? It won't hurt to speed through the inevitable, Leon," Tendou says that strange grin still occupying his face. Leon is uncertain if that is how Tendou regularly smiles or if he is attempting to be particularly irritating like he does with Shirabu. He hasn’t visited Tendou enough to decipher his looks as of yet, but he’s sure he’ll one day understand the constantly changing expressions of the dragon. Or maybe he’ll always be unsettled by the uncanny gleam in Tendou’s expression, as quick as a fire catching a torch alight.

"Have you always been this morbid?" Leon asks.

"Maybe. I don't know,” Tendou says, voice trailing off. He pauses, eyes blank. “It's been a long time."

Leon doesn't say anything after that and Tendou finds he doesn’t mind the silence because he wouldn't know what to say to himself either.

...

Hayato runs into Ushijima when the King is stomping his way through the upper halls towards his room, his feet heavy and clanking together in a silent hall. The stone reverberates the noise so it's amplified and Hayato internally questions how Ushijima has ever been trained to handle a stealth mission when his feet are so damn heavy on a daily basis.

Still, the sight of Ushijima who had been gone for almost two months brings an uncontrollable smile onto his previously stilted expression. The back of his neck may be sweaty from menial labour and his voice is likely hoarse from yelling at the trainees who slacked off on their cleaning today, but at least the King is back home. Most importantly, he’s safe within the walls where Hayato can keep an eye on him. 

He can recall when Ushijima had stiffly lifted his arms up to be held at three years old, his face as unmoving as it usually was. Despite this quiet and stoic action, his eyes were always warm and welcome for affection as a child. Hayato knew the boy had needed it. A castle isn’t a place for a child to run around freely, nor express himself around nobles who always expected the best behaviour out of him or wanted access to the Queen through being friendly to the Prince. 

He’s glad to have been around to see Ushijima crowned and ruling the castle on his own terms—even considering the sad circumstances of the crowning.

There are no longer infinite pressures to weigh onto Ushijima from snooty nobles breathing down his neck. Ushijima wasn’t the type to be pushed around as an adult, he had learned how to stand his ground and take none of their words as the honest truth. Still the intricacies of politics are a process Ushijima is continuously working out along with the two guards he trusts most. Speaking of, Hayato glances around at the fact that neither Shirabu nor Leon are standing at Ushijima’s side as he huffs down the hall in a rush.

The King is in such a rush, his feet still stomping ridiculously that he nearly passes Hayato without a single glance if it weren’t for Hayato’s hand on his forearm bringing the man’s attention to who is in front of him. It's only just past sunset and all the troops had done was unpack and count their stock. He heard secondhand from a messenger who arrived at the castle two days ago that the treaty had gone as planned. Why was Ushijima in such an agitated mood?

“King Ushijima,” Hayato greets, treading lightly so as to not startle Ushijima and cause the young man to flee his notice. Usually, he’d call him Wakatoshi but he finds the formality appropriate for the King’s return. “It’s good to see you back.”

“Hayato-san,” Ushijima says as he rapidly blinks his thin lashes. The young King peers around them as if he’s uncertain where his feet had initially been leading him. Ushijima’s well-cut bangs end up rustled in the process of his rapid head-turning. Hayato knows this is the hallway closest to Ushijima’s study, where he sits at a desk to read or contemplate future plans of diplomacy as he stares out his window. It's odd to see him in such a hurry to get back to working when he has only just arrived. He should rest, Hayato’s about to say as much, but the King cuts off his potential sentence.

“I’m quite busy at the moment, Hayato-san,” Ushijima says. The man’s body is already turning away and continuing down the hall, a testament of the fact he spoke. 

“I’ll speak with you later.” He waves and Hayato can just make out the edges of a frown forming over his lips from Ushijima’s profile before the man turns his head forward as well and Hayato can no longer make out the man’s expression.

Hayato stands frozen, hand still lifted where Ushijima’s forearm once was. 

Ushijima had not so subtly brushed him off. He was frowning, which isn’t really strange since Ushijima rarely smiles so easily. What matters is that it wasn’t his typical frown that unconsciously falls over a person’s face when they aren’t thinking of anything in particular. No, Ushijima is definitely bothered about something, he just has no idea of what. 

Hayato begins to head to the kitchen as he initially planned and unsurprisingly runs into Shirabu along with Goshiki who is already running into the open doorway to find a late snack to ease the day’s hunger. 

Before the man can follow his junior into the room, Hayato calls out to Shirabu to gain his attention.

“Yes, Hayato-san?” Shirabu turns to face him with his eyebrow raised. Of course the kid pretends as if the steward is wasting his time when years ago Shirabu had cried after a horse knocked him off its back, spraining his ankle when the kid hit the ground, and wouldn’t listen to any of the other Knights who tried to help him up until Hayato had shown up. The snivelling boy is gone and sometimes Hayato hates how old he has become.

Despite the obvious attitude in Shirabu’s no-nonsense expression, Hayato continues breezily, “I’m glad you’re back safe, Kenjirou.” He smiles warmly, the words genuine and Shirabu’s face softens ever so slightly, the right side of his lip twitching up. Almost a smile, but Hayato will take anything. 

“Where’s Leon?” Hayato's eyes glance curiously behind Shirabu, as if the giant man would somehow appear out of thin air. He’s always internally grateful that Shirabu is only a few centimetres taller than him. Because being surrounded by giants causes premature neck pain.

Shirabu shrugs, “King Ushijima’s orders. Probably sent him to handle the gates or something.” He yawns to punctuate the purple bags under his eyes and Hayato immediately decides he’ll cut to the point to allow the kid to eat and quickly get some rest to recover from the long hours he has been working.

“By the way, what happened with Ushijima? He just avoided me on his way to his study,” Hayato mentions as he leans in to speak at a low volume beside Shirabu’s ear to avoid anyone overhearing them. The tips of Hayato’s dark brown hair touches the edge of the younger man’s ear as he shuffles closer.

Shirabu sighs and steps back from him. “It’s a long story that I’m not authorized to tell you as of now.”

“I’ll find out.” 

“Yes, but probably _tomorrow_ ,” Shirabu says over his shoulder as he sidesteps Hayato’s eager approach and continues to walk into the kitchen. Hayato’s head spins when the man disappears past the threshold. His ears turn red at the tips, a testament of how heated his entire body has become over the past few minutes. First, Ushijima, now Shirabu as well? To hell with these damn civilities. He only answers to the King, not to this nineteen year old sporting a terrible haircut.

In a last ditch attempt at guilt-tripping the man, Hayato yells, “I raised you fools! You should tell me what’s going on!”

Shirabu replies with his voice even, “Hayato-san, you handed me cookies whenever I was being a polite child. That’s it.” 

“And you were much sweeter then, Shirabu-chan!” Hayato slips out the old nickname out of habit from when the kid was only up to Hayato’s hip in size and in response Shirabu throws him the middle finger as he walks off. 

Hayato sighs, “these damn kids.” He stares at the ceiling in defeat.

...

At dawn, Leon leaves the now patched up Tendou ‒courtesy of his quick handiwork‒ for Shirabu to guard. The younger Knight is generally displeased by his call to work, but does not voice any of his internal complaints due to his respect of the King’s orders. Leon contemplates how long it’ll take Shirabu to snap at this post. A week? Three days? He may coerce Taichi to take his shift through well-placed words of fake promise that Tendou is god-like and grants one a wish if you ask nicely. Leon shakes his head at the thought as he stretches his arms out with a yawn.

Before he walks to the Knights quarters, Leon decides to report to Ushijima that Shirabu had taken over the next watch and Tendou hadn't spoken a single word of complaint since he was set behind bars. No foul play or attempts to injure anyone. In fact, Tendou had been eerily still and bore holes into the cold stone in front of him. He languidly leaned his back against chilly stone, unable to put on his shirt after his wound was wrapped up in thin bandages around his waist. Leon had offered Tendou the dragon's ripped up clothing but Tendou shook his head in denial of any help being reclothed. Leon left the teared up shirt in a corner if the man ever changed his mind.

In short, the dragon is cooperating for now. Leon doesn’t know if this cooperation is only temporary or a method to get their guards down and attack once more. Regardless, he won’t plan to negate his weariness of Tendou as of yet. 

He sympathizes with Tendou’s injuries as any empathic person would, but he has to be objective: Tendou is an enemy of the crown. An unknown force that is detrimental to them all. He has his duty to the King and that is to follow his orders. So even if he’s kind to the dragon, he’s still wary of the potential harm the red-haired man could cause. For magic hasn’t exactly been a form of combat Leon has been properly trained to defeat nor has he witnessed it first hand despite his father’s remarks of its ‘supposed’ existence. Leon himself has never seen any spellwork in all twenty-one years of his life. 

No matter the strange circumstances of Tendou’s existence, Leon has to ensure the castle residents and their King are protected. Even with Tendou being harmless and speaking of his death casually, he has still mentioned escaping with clear intent. 

Who knows what a dragon who escapes is capable of. Certainly an extreme magical retribution against them all is possible, which could curse them and at worst murder them. Even if he’s a sworn Knight willing to sacrifice himself, Leon would prefer to keep his life despite how casually Tendou spoke of losing his own. 

Seeing a familiar red oak door, he knocks on Ushijima’s bed-chamber. There is no response. 

He knocks again and is met with complete silence. Not even the rustle of bedsheets. 

Surely, Ushijima has retired. It’s only dawn, so the man should be in his bed asleep, but not deeply enough so that he’s unable to wake from a loud knock of the eagle shaped brass door knocker. He clanks the brass knocker once more. Shiratorizawa’s symbol of the bald eagle is molded to perfect accuracy, it's beak gaping open to hold the brass loop for people to peruse. 

Leon is met with more silence. The eagle mocks him for shuffling at a King’s doorway. Its beady eyes half-challenge Leon in a cold stare that mirror’s their King’s when he’s in a terrible mood. Leon pauses the motion of his lifted arm to inflict another knock.

Ushijima isn’t a deep sleeper. 

Ever since he has become King he has woken up at the sound of feet moving down his hall. He remembers Ushiima’s request for everyone to avoid stepping loudly at night as they pass his rooms, the servants were even trained by Hayato at the time on how to tread lightly over the red carpets.

_Not in his rooms._ Then, there’s only one place Ushijima could possibly be at dawn.

He walks to the opposite side of the castle and stops at a similar looking door. Ushijima’s personal study. If Ushijima hasn’t gone to sleep, it’s the most probable suspect for the monarch's lack of sleep. Work and thoughts of Shiratorizawa’s future always made Ushijima restless. With a possible enemy in their dungeons it’s no surprise the man’s awake at this ungodly hour despite their lack of proper sleep over the past three weeks.

He slams the eagle knocker and Ushijima grunts, “Come in.”

Ushijima sits at his white oak desk with his hands folded in a delicate pile over a large open book with tiny ink lettering that seems a pain to read even from a distance. Leon has never been so glad he’s no longer in the mandatory classes his father enrolled him into at the age of seven. 

“King Ushijima.” Leon bows, without his chainmail armor, only wearing his sweaty white tunic and thin grey trousers his movement is quiet and efficient. A precise bow to politely greet the King as Knights are trained to enact when reporting to Ushijima.

King Ushijima waves his hand, “It’s fine, Leon. It’s just the two of us here.” 

Leon uprights himself quickly, and reports, “The switch with Shirabu went smoothly, he’s watching the dragon as we speak.” He uses a monotone voice to ensure the utmost professionalism between them. As Leon spoke, Ushijima began standing from his engraved chair, eagles in flight on the tips of the chair ears connected by a fancy windswept design on the cresting rail. The King walks around the warm toned desk and Leon follows the man’s movements curiously with an eyebrow raised.

“And the dragon? How is he?” Ushijima asks. The King steps away from Leon, smoothly stepping up beside the windows.

Leon pauses at the odd question, but speaks honestly. “He hasn’t spoken at all since I locked the cell. Pretty quiet, which isn’t how he usually is from what I’ve heard of Goshiki’s reports in the past. He didn’t say how he’s feeling.”

“I meant a report on how he’s acting, not of how he feels,” Ushijima explains outright. 

Leon’s used to the King being blunt, but the fact Ushijima’s head is not facing Leon as he speaks is very odd. Ushijima appears deeply engrossed in peeking outside the window at the moment. The King is a mirror of the sun trickling over the horizon onto the garden’s tall hedges. Leon imagines Ushijima’s eyes catching the light of that distant warm sun, appearing a bright green in a tiny instance.

“Oh, that,” Leon utters. “He hasn’t moved around much or acted suspiciously. Pretty complacent if you ask me, though I don’t think that will last very long considering how he acted last night.” He stares at Ushijima’s profile and is caught off guard at the small frown that forms over his lips.

“Leon, I need you to speak honestly as a comrade who I’ve fought with. Did I make the correct decision?” Ushijima inquires, which is another strange question. 

The King rarely spares notice of previous simple actions such as reprimanding an individual who breaks his court rules. He’s always sprinting forward, ten steps ahead and not looking back at the mess left behind for Shirabu and Leon. Surely, this air of responsibility Washijou left on Ushijima when they last spoke must be what’s bothering Ushijima. Did Washijou expect Ushijima to treat Tendou as some god given gift? Even if Tendou attacked Ushijima? Leon has no insight on that old man’s thoughts and this heightened his worry over what is brewing in Ushijima’s mind.

“You acted as any King would have, given the situation,” Leon replies. “Tendou was out of line attacking you with your back turned. Other Kings would have done far worse in retribution for a crime such as that. I think you responded admirably, Ushijima.”

“Hm,” Ushijima nods, that frown unmoved by Leon’s words. Ushijima’s head doesn’t turn even in this tiny response.

Leon’s a year older than Ushijima, always has been. And now that impulse to check on the man, similar to a person might ask a sibling how their day has been, fumbles past his lips, unwarranted. “Um, Wakatoshi?”

“Yes?” Ushijima finally turns his head to face Leon. Those olive eyes still have the same warmth they always held and there is no longer a frown on his lips. His thick eyebrow is raised in question for Leon to continue speaking.

It’s completely inappropriate to speak this casually but his filter is lost on his jaw, opening completely on its own accord. “You alright? Considering everything that’s happened, maybe”–

“That’ll be all, Leon.” Ushijima is turning back to the window again, his broad shoulders all Leon can witness. The hilt of the man’s smallsword, which always sticks to his hip regardless of his whereabouts glints against the sunlight that slowly trickles over their lower limbs.

Leon doesn’t have a choice here, Ushijima is his King and Leon is only his first guard. He obeys his order because that is how it should be. Uncomplicated and with a healthy distance between them for personal privacy. 

The King needs some days to himself, Leon thinks.

He hopes that is all Ushijima needs, a week in his own personal thoughts to figure out his current mindset. And perhaps to avoid dealing with a particularly annoying dragon locked away in the castle’s secret basement. 

Still Leon’s mouth cannot help but add over his shoulder as he exits. A final attempt at reassuring Ushijima in his own way. “By the way, I patched Tendou up myself. I know you don’t want anyone to find out we’ve got a dragon as a gift from Hama quite yet, so I made sure to deal with it on my own with what bandages we had nearby.”

“That was the correct decision, Leon.”

“You still know how to pull your punches. It wasn’t very deep at all,” Leon says with his voice soft to assure Ushijima that he has done no wrong. He stops at the door’s threshold and peers back at his King with questioning eyes.

Ushijima is still staring at the window, so Leon does not know what expression he makes as he says. “Is that so? You’re dismissed, Leon. Get some rest.”

This time, Leon follows Ushijima’s order immediately without any further delay.

♠♠♠

Leon had lost his mother when he was born. 

The doctors were unable to save her and so Leon’s father, Sir Ohira, King Utsui’s right-hand guard and best friend raised Leon on his own. He never remarried either and thus Leon grew up without any siblings. It was a simultaneously liberating and isolated childhood. He could become friends with anyone, but whenever he scampered back home, dodging the crowds of the late night city streets, he was often alone due to his father’s odd hours of work. At first it was just guarding, but the hours became longer as they entrusted his father to more work. Ohira never complained, because he got to work alongside his childhood friend, Utsui Takashi, who he followed all the way to Shiratorizawa before Leon was even born. 

Ohira helped the King and Queen with strategizing alongside the Queen’s best men, Washijou, the original creator of the castle wall’s impenetrable strategic force and Shirabu-san, a man with extreme focus and precision in battle. Well, Leon heard this all second hand, according to his father who mentioned these facts with an all-consuming awe for his peers. His Dad was even humble enough to savour every minute he stood at the same table they spoke strategies over.

Because of his Father’s excitement as he spoke of these distant noble men, Leon grew up excited at the prospect of diving into Knighthood. He jumped at every time his father allowed him to visit the castle on days Leon wasn’t busy with his school classes, stuck in a room with pasty nine year olds huddled over wrinkly papers and spilt ink on desks. 

There he met Ushijima Wakatoshi, Queen Ushijima’s only son and the Prince of their powerful country. He was introduced to the boy at a fancy table while Leon’s father kept clutching his tunic's tight neck due to it being not properly fitted. The Queen was intimidating, but beautiful with dark long hair and Ushijima had not spoken much at all besides one-word answers. 

“We should practice sparring together, Leon,” Ushijima had said as he waved Goodbye to Leon that night. He was startled by the sudden interest from the stoic Prince, but greeted the offer with a warm smile that showed his teeth.

“Sure, Prince Ushijima, that’d be great!” Leon agreed. 

Ohira patted Leon’s head and the boy’s heart swelled at the soft action. King Utsui was behind Wakatoshi, looking particularly pleased that his son had spoken his mind so freely with someone his own age. Was he even tearing up then? Leon couldn’t recall since the memories were hazy at such a young age. He did recall exactly what the Prince had said afterwards, because of course Wakatoshi would not be anything but consistent throughout his lifetime.

“Call me Wakatoshi, Leon.”

“Really?” Leon had uttered, half-confused but also ecstatic at the prospect.

It was Wakatoshi's turn to be confused. “Of course. We’re friends, aren’t we?” 

Leon nodded, stuck with an immovable mouth from being called a Prince's friend.

King Utsui had ruffled Wakatoshi’s hair in such a rough manner he nearly fell over. 

Wakatoshi pouted, “What?” Leon couldn't quite believe what he was seeing from the previously unmoving child’s face to be so emotional was a sight to behold.

“Nothing, nothing. Tell them Goodnight, you’ll see your friend when he doesn’t have school.” Wakatoshi politely obliged, bowing for good measure, resulting in Leon bowing back frantically so as to not appear rude. His father bowed to the King as well, but Utsui had slapped Ohira’s back and snorted at the action. 

“Get up old man!” he hollered.

Ohira said, “If I’m an old man, then you’re ancient.”

“If you don't want to be called old then stop bowing when we say our goodbyes!”

After that, Wakatoshi and Leon hadn’t bowed in greeting unless they were amidst nobles or the Queen, who spoke of the rules as the law in the castle. Also, Leon could never possibly be rude in front of the ruling leader of his own country.

Still, despite Wakatoshi’s stoic nature at their first meeting, Leon found the boy interesting and fun to spar with. He kept Leon on his toes, which was appreciated in comparison to the children at school who treat him differently because of his father’s status as the King’s guard. The two boys’ blossoming friendship was helpfully nurtured by both of their fathers, who scheduled meet-ups with excited grins. They wanted their sons to become as close as they were as children, and Leon supposed they did become close as brothers because of their efforts. 

In fact, one could argue Ushijima and Leon were mirrors of each other. 

They both had no siblings to speak to on the regular so as to not become bored of daily seclusion to a castle or an empty house in Leon’s case. Not to mention they were often left alone by busy parents with more important issues to deal with than a child’s attention. 

And so, a deep friendship was born over many years of annual meet-ups where they rode through the horse enclosure to practice their riding skills and snuck into the kitchens for snacks. The cook greeted them with a pleasant grin and a secretive wink. She handed them steamed buns which they devoured relentlessly.

Of course, they were instilled battle training by their fathers' request, but oftentimes they exercised completely on their own accord, without any prompting by adults. Simply for the fun of the spar. 

Leon and Ushijima may have been polar opposites personality wise, but they both were physically determined children, who despised being stuck indoors. They also preferred the freedom of running around outside in the gardens in a game of tag or duking it out at the stables with some harmless wooden training swords. Well, not completely harmless, for Leon remembered receiving plenty of bruises from particularly strong attacks Wakatoshi made in the heat of the moment. It was still a better time than sitting at those boring desks at his school classes.

The most significant similarity was how they both clung to each of their own father’s every word. They watched with wide sparkling eyes as the two older men clashed their swords at the training grounds on days their fathers didn’t mind exhibiting an example or two of a sword move for them to witness in action. 

“They’re amazing,” Wakatoshi said, his voice soft in complete disbelief of the swift and quick movements unfolding before them. Like they already knew what the other would throw at them, neither was unprepared for an attack. Their fathers weren't ones to concede to one another either, they kept going at the spar despite the sweat dripping past their foreheads. 

Leon nodded vigorously, "They truly are the best at this." He paused, thoughtful but then furrowed his eyebrows in determination as he turned to his friend. "We'll be amazing too. Maybe even better!"

Wakatoshi smiled, his eyes closing at the action. Leon hadn't seen him become so outwardly happy and vowed to not break his promise. He'd become Wakatoshi's right hand guard and even stronger than the legacy their fathers left.

♠♠♠

Prince Ushijima, who just turned sixteen a day ago, stood beside Leon at the training grounds while they took a break from their sparring. 

The castle had the usual dramatic fanfare that Wakatoshi likely hated to be susceptible to, but did so in amiable silence because he was too polite to ask for a night to himself when all Wakatoshi's mother wanted to do was flaunt her son to all the snooty distant relatives that visited. It was her severe retribution for the gossip they spread over her divorce with Utsui.

They could not fathom a King and Queen to rule without being romantically together. They also called her a cheating bitch but Leon preferred not to think of those terrible remarks by men who had nothing good to say about a woman in power. 

It was the night after that excessive celebration and Leon was still working up the nerve to broach the subject of Wakatoshi's date - not exactly a date, but the girl who had eyes on him all of last night. Leon had been far too busy last night meeting with Eiko-chan on her rare day off from working and so he hadn’t the chance to snoop on what Ushijima was up to during the festivities after supper.

Now that it is the next day, Leon doesn't know how to get the details without pushing their unspoken private boundaries. Wakatoshi was never the type to pry for Leon's crushes, so he didn't know if that meant Wakatoshi didn't want to speak of his own romance as well. It was highly probable he didn't want to share. Wakatoshi barely spoke of his own thoughts on food preferences let alone on who he's attracted to! Still, Leon was curious. Especially with how beautiful the aforementioned Lady appeared the previous night. He also wanted to support Wakatoshi if he were confused about his feelings for her, because if Leon has noticed anything over the years it's that Wakatoshi never outright spoke of women, to anyone really. He must be fairly shy, like Shirabu-kun was.

Leon took a sip of water but was interrupted by an arm suddenly appearing around his neck, nearly choking him. He recognized that black gloved arm anywhere, it even held the multi coloured bracelet his mother once wore, tied together with purple and blue thread; Leon's mother's favourite colours. 

"Dad!" He accused, whipping around to face his grinning father. The man sported a cleanly shaved haircut, but his eyes were the same as Leon's in shape. Leon was still fairly taller than his father, gaining his large build from his mother's genes. 

Ohira brushed the thick dark-brown beard he sported and replied, "You've been getting rusty, son!"

Wakatoshi greeted Leon's Dad with the usual: "Ohira-san."

"I still can't believe how tall you both have grown." He put his arms over the two of them, practically jamming their heads together in glee. Leon and Wakatoshi both received the most intense hair ruffle in their lives. Perhaps not the most intense, Leon has seen Utsui's hands before. They probably were ten times harsher than Ohira's current hair scrambling.

" _Dad_. It hasn't been my birthday yet, so can you please relax already? We aren't that old yet. I'm only sixteen still. I won't be seventeen till October."

"Yes, yes. I'm just being sentimental. This is a bit of a rush, but we've got news for you."

Leon and Wakatoshi both exchange a look of equal confusion. Wakatoshi spoke first, "You and my father?"

Ohira smiled sadly, "yes, we'll be going on a mission along with Chiba-san. I know it's right after your birthday passed but our chances of getting our hands on this item has dramatically increased in the past week. Your father and I have been following this trail for months now."

"Item?" Leon asked.

They heard a yell behind them and turned to see Utsui shouting at them as he sprinted in their direction. 

"Sorry I'm late, I had to explain it all to her before we left," Utsui explained to Ohira. Leon and Wakatoshi both startled at the mention of leaving, their wide eyes met one another for a moment before staring back at each of their fathers.

Leon said, "you're leaving today?" 

Utsui nodded and Ohira replied, "Yes, son, we have to." 

Utsui clapped Wakatoshi's shoulder. "We'll be staying for lunch, I promised your mother at least that. So we'll be eating soon."

"What is your mission?" Wakatoshi asked casually as he slipped his canteen back into the rusack beside the wooden post. Leon bent down to do the same to his own canister and shouldered their shared bag over his back casually. They all began walking back to the castle and Utsui had his arm over Wakatoshi, the action familiar to many other times he walked side by side with his son.

"A long quest!" Utsui exclaimed heartily, fake raising a sword he wasn't even holding. 

Ohira shook his head, but smiled regardless at Utsui's lighthearted joking. Leon's father explained, "Yes, a regular quest to find a magical artifact that was rumoured to be in Shiratorizawa's Northeastern forests." 

"Between Seijou and Hama you mean?" Leon questioned.

Ohira sighed, clearly annoyed at the idea of their rival country of Seijou. "Yes, but not on their lands."

"We might have to sneak in a little, Ohira!" Utsui said over his shoulder to which Ohira rolled his eyes. 

"Yeah and nearly getting charged by Seijou’s troops? Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

Wakatoshi added, with complete monotone. "If that happened I would get you out of it, Dad."

"That's the spirit!" Utsui hollered and patted Wakatoshi's back roughly. Leon snorted along with Ohira because the sight was humorous due to Wakatoshi's unbothered expression at committing a crime in defense of his father's wrongdoings. 

Utsui said as he let go of Wakatoshi's shoulder: “Your mother has found so many magical objects, mainly through her family connections and royal ties, but I don’t plan to lose a competition.” 

Even without love in the picture, the two still competed and respected one another; it was very strange to witness from afar. So many people are consumed by anger and grief over the loss of a romantic relationship, that seeing the person is painful, but the eager smiles on Utsui’s face and the roundabout way he patted his men’s shoulders told otherwise. 

Or perhaps he hid his fear well. Maybe he wasn’t as comfortable, maybe he wanted to flee these castle walls on a far-fetched quest for an object that probably wasn’t even real. Magic emerged in the past illegally through witches and mages but the royal family got rid of any taste of spellwork using their swords and lit torches. Leon had never seen any magic and so it was hard to believe in something he could not see.

On that same afternoon, they waved goodbye to their fathers who were mounted on their steeds. Leon recalled how he shouted at his Dad to remember to tape up his bad knee. Ohira was forgetful like that. 

That fond memory was the last of its kind. It was before the fate of Ushijima’s mother was set in stone. And Leon hadn’t known as he waved, that his father wouldn’t return to the castle walls. 

If he did know of that future, then he would’ve said Goodbye, once more. Twice more. Hell, he would endlessly say Goodbye, because stopping that wave farewell would mean acknowledging the loss. And Leon desperately wanted to maintain that frivolous illusion of possibility. To meet again within these stone walls.

With Tendou by their side, would a miracle like that really be possible?

...

Tendou finally worked up the strength to put his shirt back on, five hours after Leon left.

Though he does hope these damn nobles will bother to replace these shit clothes at some point. He feels ridiculous wearing a bloody shirt after being patched up. Since Leon had left, Tendou kept sleeping in tiny bursts due to his uneasiness of being locked up in an eerily familiar manner to Saito's previous jail cell. Except wherever Leon took him, Tendou is the sole occupant. Which is strange, a castle must have some condemned prisoners to lock up or were they blissfully unaware of any potential threats to the crown? Not like Tendou cares about Ushijima's damn head anyways, he could lose it at any time, honestly and Tendou would likely applaud the person responsible.

More importantly, Tendou’s limbs are still wobbly and so he has been stuck uncomfortably against this wall since he got here last evening. He thought that over the course of the night he'd recover but the lack of getting proper shut-eye has not helped his tense limbs at all. 

He should relax, Tendou guesses. But it's hard to relax when he's so pissed at his own body's lack of strength. What did he expect? To hurt a _King?_ Him, a weak dragon who hasn't flown in years? His nails scratch at the crevices between each stone. If he tries hard enough, maybe could he rip his way out of here- stone by stone. 

Dammit, he doesn't think he could light a single flame even if he attempted it. His index finger's nail catches at the rough crevice, and he hisses at the aching pull it leaves to his fingertip. Inspecting the nail, he sees he has broken it and scowls in displeasure. He rips at the hangnail violently, uncaring of any possible blood that may emerge in the process. 

Tendou knows he's tired and drained for the reasons Ushijima had outlined so eloquently to him, with that well-intentioned assurance he kept speaking to Tendou in. How Tendou’s limbs lacked any previous hard muscles they once held. He's thin, bony, and soft at the edges. Oh, how he wishes his nails had gotten to scrape against that ridiculously thick neck of that man. Then maybe Tendou wouldn't be so sour as his body aches to recover. 

He peeks his eyes up at Shirabu, who stands on the other side of iron bars. With his back to Tendou and completely uncaring of the fact that Tendou's hands can probably fit through and scratch at him if he had some leftover energy to burn. 

"You know that hair of yours looks just as terrible from behind," Tendou says, eager for a reaction to distract his aching body. Before, he hadn't been in the mood to speak with the empathetic giant that is Leon, who would stare at Tendou in an attempt to see through his words' intentions or how Tendou's words could be implication enough for endangering the King that Leon so faithfully follows. 

Shirabu ignores him, not offering a single reaction. Tendou tries multiple other insults that come to his head, but Shirabu never flinches. Is this how the Knight acts between Shiratorizawa's walls? A boring puppet commandeered by Ushijima? Or is the damn Knight asleep already? Shirabu isn't even facing Tendou, so he can't tell if Shirabu is currently blinking or taking a nap while standing. The red haired man frowns and leans back once more, the chill making its way past the thin fabric of his clothing. March may be warmer, but the basement he's stuck in only has the warmth of a few torches down the hall. 

Looking up at Shirabu from where he's curled up against stone, Tendou thinks to himself how Shirabu’s initial distrust of him has been proven right in a physical betrayal 

_You’d think he’d be a little more happy about being correct in hating me_. A little thanks would be appreciated for Tendou’s flawless performance. Hell, he even landed the failure to withstand Ushijima’s blows as Shirabu must have envisioned in a perfectly pitiful way. 

The man should be beside himself in joy and rubbing salt into Tendou’s bruised ego. So why the silent treatment? Tendou has no idea of the Knight’s possible intentions and he learns nothing as Shirabu continues to stand guard in eerie silence.

...

Hayato is fixing up Ushijima’s wardrobe with recently cleaned clothing from his journey when the King arrives at his bedchambers. He smiles in greeting to Ushijima who freezes at the open door before closing it behind him. The door is heavy so it slams loudly amidst the silence. Hayato busies himself at the wardrobe folding and refolding if any pile appears not neat enough for his standards. “You’re ready to hit the hay yet? Or are you here for one of your books?” He gestures to the dresser that has multiple books piled on it, each one left as they were placed months prior when Ushijima had left the castle on a campaign against Hama.

“I’m sorry, Hayato-san,” Ushijima says.

Hayato stills his movement, turning to Ushijima with a raised eyebrow. The King chuckles, and one edge of his lips quirks up in a tiny smile that is unnoticeable to most. “I wasn’t here to wish you a happy birthday in person back in February. So I apologize for that.”

Hayato groans, completely abandoning the pile in front of him. “Don't even bother with that. I’m getting too old to be reminded about birthday wishes, and I’d rather people stop counting my age to begin with.” 

“You’ve turned 29 years old, that’s an admirable age.”

“Says the 20 year old who has no wrinkles,” Hayato deadpans and turns back to his folding.

Ushijima stills Hayato’s hands mid-fold. “You shouldn’t be folding my clothes, Hayato, you should be celebrating.”

As if the King hadn’t even spoken at all, Hayato props his hands onto his hips and says, “More importantly, you need to rest. Have you been getting any sleep?”

Ushijima shuffles past Hayato after he closes the wardrobe to stop Hayato from working any further. He grabs a thick tome from his dresser and begins to mumble, “Hayato…” his voice low on an annoyed sigh, similar to how the King would speak to a young child. His eyes have heavy purple spots under them and Hayato’s forehead is already crinkling in worry at the sight.

“You can take a bath, then,” Hayato argues and when that garners no immediate approval he snidely adds, “Please, on behalf of everyone else in the castle you can manage that.”

“You care too much for appearances, Hayato-san.” The King deftly sits at the soft cushioned chair by his window, flipping open the book in his lap and crossing his legs.

“Your mother would _kill_ me if she–” 

“Well, she’s _not_ , okay, Hayato?!” Ushijima snaps, his voice harsh and thick with emotions that rarely brush the surface of his eyes. Even now, his mouth is a thin line of disapproval rather than one of remorse or regret.

“Wakatoshi…” Hayato breathes out, mouth left open on words that are unable to flee past his dry lips.

“Just… let me be. Celebrate your birthday with your friends,” Ushijima replies as he clenches the hardcover of his book. “You deserve a day off for working so much. The castle won’t fall without you. Take a break.” 

“Says the man who looks like he hasn’t been sleeping properly.” Hayato gives him a disapproving look with his arms crossed, unwilling to leave this fact unspoken. Ushijima must know that he has eyes and can tell that the man has been avoiding his bed by the lack of its use, completely made and untouched since he has arrived.

Ushijima waves him off with a simple: “I’m just tired from a long journey, nothing serious.” The King stands, intending to physically push Hayato out of his rooms by force, if the hands on the shorter man’s shoulders is anything to go by. “Just tell the servants I’m giving you the rest of the day off, I’m sure you can adjust their schedules so it can work.”

“Wakatoshi,” he yelps as the man pushes him out the door. 

“Happy birthday,” Ushijima says as he slams the door on Hayato’s face. The servant refrains from slamming the brass knocker over and over again to irritate Ushijima, because he’s 29 years old dammit. He’s not the immature one of the two of them and he refuses to stoop to that level.

Also, he could really use a day off from worrying over the King’s mental state.

...

When the new guard arrives to switch with Shirabu, Tendou’s stomach plummets at the sight of Goshiki underneath the door's threshold. He’s dressed in full armor in the late evening, but there’s a clear lack of sword at his hip. Did they not give his sword back to him, or did he abandon it because Tendou had grabbed it from him yesterday? Was the sight of the sword really that painful to witness for Goshiki just as much as it was painful for Tendou when Ushijima had knocked him to his knees and tossed the sword from Tendou’s shaky hands?

Shirabu nudges Goshiki’s shoulder as he passes. “Good luck with the creeper. And make sure you keep your eyes peeled.”

“I will, Shirabu-san. Have a nice night.”

The door shutters closed behind Shirabu, leaving Goshiki and Tendou to themselves in an uncomfortable silence. Goshiki stares at the closed door, clearly unwilling to even meet Tendou’s eyes. The sight bothers him in a manner far more than Shirabu’s avoidance could have. Because Goshiki always felt different from the others - more familiar. Easy to speak to and continuously making Tendou amused with his rambling stories that for others would be seen as eager oversharing. Tendou had allowed the boy to speak every word he wanted in the past, because he appeared so happy as he did so, and Tendou didn’t have the heart to squash that glimmer of joy in such a terrible place as a war camp.

And so, because of his need to fill the space Goshiki’s words have left, Tendou opens his mouth to speak for the first time in hours: “Goshiki, I”-

Goshiki swivels his feet to point directly to Tendou, his eyebrows tightly scrunched together in clear disarray. “How can I _trust_ you anymore?! You tried to hurt King Ushijima! And took my sword!"

"Goshiki. It had nothing to do with you," Tendou says with his voice even and insistent. He knows his mouth is likely a harsh line, and that his eyebrow must be twitching in irritation. But it is the truth, the spat was between him and Ushijima, the young boy just happened to be the one in close proximity at that moment. Tendou would’ve done the same if it were Shirabu or hell, even the broad shouldered Leon. 

"It was my sword though!” Goshiki yells and breathes heavily through his nose afterwards as if he has lost his breath in the few heated words they exchanged. Tendou thinks fire may be emanating from the kid’s eyes at this point- he’d make a very convincing dragon Tendou thinks. 

“I don't want to talk to you anymore.” Goshiki spins on his heels so his shining armored back faces Tendou. "I thought you were nice but you're actually quite mean," he mutters sourly. The words sting Tendou’s mind, tiny pincers eating at his conscience. The red haired man clenches his fists by his sides, unable to argue with those harsh words meant to dissuade any further interactions over the course of Goshiki’s shift.

The silence overwhelming the two feet separating them is dreadful. Tendou is too unsettled by it all.

"I'm er– Goshiki. I um–" He stares at his hands shaking in front of him, unable to form words of apology. How could he gain back the trust so steadily built over the course of their trip to Shiratorizawa, like tiny stones stacked on top of one another? It was a game Tendou once played by rivers to see how far he could stack the stones over one another. The balance is shaky at the moment, threatening to spill any previous height they had already gained little by little over three weeks of brief conversations.

Tendou opens his palms over his curled up legs and realizes he cannot remember how to start something as simple as an apology to someone he doesn’t want to hurt any further. Living in seclusion could do that to a person. The quiet trails on for many minutes spent staring at his bent knees as he sits against the wall.

Goshiki suddenly pipes up, his voice very calm and lower in volume in comparison to before, "I know you're trying to apologize, Tendou. I was acting out before ‘cause I was angry at myself, not you. For not being strong enough to notice you reaching for my sword." He turns to face Tendou and his eyes are no longer sweltering with heat, but are instead downcast towards his shoes. It feels strange seeing Goshiki being the one who is unable to meet Tendou’s gaze head-on, when the dragon couldn’t even form a proper genuine apology on his lips. 

"You ain't the only one disappointed in yourself here, kid. Get in line." Tendou hopes the joking lilt of his voice eases the boy’s clear worries. Dammit, Tendou is the self-deprecating one outta the two of them, not the bright and confident Goshiki who is ready to bow in apology or yell in greeting in a moment’s notice. Tendou cannot fathom how Goshiki is beating himself up over the inability to see _behind himself_. The notion is ridiculous. Not everyone could possibly be that prepared. But then again, Tendou doesn’t know the requirements of Goshiki’s training to be a member of the Knight’s guard. Who knows what atrocious abilities they expect of a teenager like Goshiki. Tendou cannot contain his shaking hands, still open in front of his crimson eyes. 

Goshiki grins breezily, teeth bared in complete casual ease, which relieves the tiny weight that had formed onto his shoulders when Goshiki had strutted into the room. 

The young teenager tilts his head saying, "Are you scared of Ushijima?" and adds with a wide smile, "it's okay to be scared of him."

Tendou widens his eyes at his shaking palms. He grits his teeth. "I have no idea what you're talking about. "

"Don't worry. I think he's scary too, sometimes. But he's a good guy. Like he always protects us and his people," Goshiki explains as he leans back into the bars on one of his shoulders, so Tendou now sees half of the boy’s face. He can still make out his genuinely gleeful dark-brown eyes due to that short haircut, which lands straight across his forehead in a perfect line.

Tendou says, "You mean Shiratorizawa's people." 

"Yes! Of course!" Goshiki now grips onto the iron bars, rusty with age and pushes his face as closely as possible. The bars immediately block the way to gain any remote closeness to Tendou’s body.

"Goshiki, Shiratorizawa isn't the entire universe you know. There are people who answer to another monarch," Tendou corrects. Or no monarch at all he idly thinks to himself.

"But I like it here the most, Tendou! I was born here anyways. And the weather is way nicer here than in Seijou."

"Up north?" Tendou laughs. "Can't argue with that." 

Goshiki smiles again, barreling the two of them down a whole new conversation when a slew of words spill past his lips. Tendou’s hands stop trembling as he cups his palms on top of his knees and listens with his eyes closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent a long time on this chapter because I was struggling to nail Leon’s character and perspective as well as Ushijima’s possible feelings after he injured Tendou in their spat. At first I planned to have Ushijima ask Leon what happened of Tendou’s injuries, but I realized that since Ushijima would likely be thinking as the King rather than as a person, he wouldn’t be acting sympathetically to an enemy, he would want to know if the man is acting strangely or planning anything to escape his clutches, which Ushijima wants to prevent to the utmost of his abilities right now. At least these are thoughts his mother and Washijou likely instilled in him, to think as a King all the time rather than as himself. I decided that Leon’s character will be the objective or neutral party out of the three knights. Shirabu is actively hostile, while Goshiki is naive and trusting in contrast. Leon isn’t hostile, but he isn’t completely trusting in Tendou either, he is able to distance himself and work as ordered by the King without any regrets because that is his job. Therefore, although he doesn’t personally enjoy seeing others hurt by the King, he still doesn’t work against Ushijima who for him is the only hope Shiratorizawa has for continued peace and control over the lands. 
> 
> sorry for the long wait folks!! Let me know your thoughts on these new developments :) i love reading each and every comment you all leave, every single one of you is so thoughtful !! //i also apologize for the lack of ushiten, i swear guys that we'll get there lol i just gotta do the groundwork first


	5. The Queen and her King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ushijima's life through the years as the Prince of Shiratorizawa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long delay folks, lately I haven’t had much creative energy or motivation despite the extreme amounts of free time on my hands. Your comments kept my energy up and rereading them always helps me feel inspired so thank you all for your feedback and patience, I seriously appreciate every single one of you! i actually had this chapter done on august 1st but i didn't edit in time for that afternoon to post it on ao3 before going on a family visit for two days, now that i'm back home today i can upload the edited chapter!! :) this chapter was supposed to be short but it became a behemoth of a chapter (14000 words basically) and i thought it'd be too awkward to split it into two chapters since it's a very long flashback chapter so I left the chapter as it is. 
> 
> I wasn't sure whether to put the usal three spades for each section since this _entire_ chapter is in the past, but i decided to play it safe and put in the "♠♠♠" for the sake of consistency.

♠♠♠

His mother used to speak stories to him while he tried to sleep. Of happy tales, of Knights who saved the one they loved from peril, of Queens and of Kings who fought for their people. His eyes would close to words being lulled in sweeping octaves above his head. The two of them would lie side by side, as close as possible. Ushijima was told by other women that he had come from his mother's belly when he asked why the woman appeared different from before. Ushijima thought this was the closest they would be from that time his mother had carried him for nine months.

But like all nice things, they are not bound by an eternity of time. 

War took away his mother's stories and her closeness all in one. His father was not far behind because they were inseparable, regardless of circumstance. Even with Ushijima in the picture nothing could wedge their duties from their minds. Not even a new child. 

No stories to ease him into a dreamland. Instead he was restless. 

Ushijima hated the war, because it took his mother's heart with it. Her eyes blazed and her mind wandered, she's never quite there when war was on the horizon. 

At a young age, the prince craved peace more than anything because of it.

♠♠♠

Since his mother was gone oftentimes on what Ushijima was simply told was “war”, he was left without her within the castle walls at a young age. Though in reality it wasn’t a full scale war similar to the one against Seijou in the past. They were likely petty fights over pieces of land. Shiratorizawa still celebrated largely out of the excuse to spread the word of Queen Ushijima’s great power, therefore victory marches were common afterwards.

At age four when his mother was in the castle for once, back to coddling him as she used to, she discovered as he picked up a quill that he used his left hand rather than his right. Immediately, she slapped at his hand, the quill falling out of his grip. Her eyes narrowed due to the superstitions of cursed individuals or mages using their left hand to write. It was one of the many clues her ancestors followed in discovering those who are abnormal. 

Ushijima startled, eyes wide in question at the quill splattering ink over the parchment paper he was kneeled over, trying to write his name. 

“Wakatoshi, where did you learn that?” she asked.

His father shuffled parchment at his desk, while the Queen crossed her legs in a fancy chair right beside her child. She furrowed her eyebrows at the sight she witnessed in confusion. For her child to actively write with his left hand was odd, no one in this castle would have encouraged it.

“I’m writing,” Ushijima said. He picked up the quill again with his left hand and tried to write once more. “Mother and father write, I want to write.” His head bent down and he scrunched up his face slightly as he focused on his shaky strokes of the pen tip.

The Queen, Ushijima Noriko, looked incredulously up at her husband from her flower embroidered cushion. “Takashi, what did you do?”

“Honey, you always assume the worst of me.”

“I’m not joking around, why is Wakatoshi using his left hand - _you know what it means to our people_ ,” she hissed, her olive eyes, a brighter green than Wakatoshi’s own pair frantically whipped back and forth between her son and husband. Like a wild horse stumbling across an enclosure in a frenzy, she seemed to be driving her mind into an endless rabbit hole of terrible possibilities. 

“Noriko, this is not a weakness. It will be his strength to be able to fight left-handed, you know that. An undeniable advantage in combat over his foes,” Utsui calmly explained. With a quick slide to his feet, he walked to his wife’s side and put a hand over her shoulder. “Look at him go, he’s learning so much on his own.” A smile crinkled over his lips and a familiar dimple popped over his left cheek, one the Queen had always been weak to whenever she saw it spread across her lover’s face. 

She grumbled with a frown, “You oversimplify matters, Takashi.” Gesturing with a clean swoop over her gloved hand that hid the thick calluses on her fingers, she continued, “They will speak ill of him. I’ll allow it only if he can also use his right hand in battle if there is a tight situation where he is cornered and requires it.” 

“Have it your way, you are the Queen here.” Utsui patted her shoulders gently with both of his wide palms. “As long as he can use his left hand as he sees fit, I’m happy. Being ambidextrous has its advantages as well. Though, he’ll always favour his left hand,” he remarked idly.

She sighed and plopped the quill from Ushijima’s left hand and cradled the utensil into his right carefully. “Try both hands, Wakatoshi.” 

“Okay,” Wakatoshi nodded, his face intent to finish his task before him. He was such a quiet child, Noriko thought. _So much like me back then_. 

“Then it’s settled.” She turned her head up to her husband, her attentive eyes set on peering straight at his warm smile without a falter in steadiness. 

“We can’t have my son become weak in battle,” Noriko said with finality. She dusted off her gown and strutted to the door around Wakatoshi who still huddled over the floorboards, extremely tiny in such a wide study.

The door which closed behind her was eerily silent as if on purpose to not disturb her son, and Utsui whispered, “Of course,” with a delayed agreement. Not that Noriko needed his agreement on the matter anyways. She was the Queen and he was her husband. He’d hear her out until the end of time. That was what one did when they were in love.

♠♠♠

When Ushijima was seven he heard the word thrown around casually without a second thought.

His Dad had brought him to watch the Knights spar. His mother was often busy with ruling the land, or as Dad liked to put it 'speaking to the stuffy diplomats about politics' in a tone of voice that indicated his father wanted to do anything but sit down at a table and speak about trade or the number of goods available for their people. Thus, Utsui would take Ushijima to watch them spar from a safe distance by the fences, at least until his mother told Ushijima to begin training his body as well as his mind. Sometimes Utsui would even let Ushijima sit over his shoulders instead of on the fence, because it gave him a better view and Utsui could control Ushijima's balance himself. 

But this day was different. He was seven years old and it was summer time so he would be turning eight soon. Because of this, his father left Ushijima unoccupied as he spoke to the friendly looking man with a beard by the stables. Really, it was accidental that he heard the harsh words. They naturally drifted over the air into his tiny ears as he examined the dandelions by his feet.

"She's such a _bitch_ , that one. Did you hear what Gima-kun was saying? She slept with half the servant boys according to him. So don't go wasting your time with her."

"She seemed genuine to me," one of them replied, sounding unconvinced of whatever they were arguing about. Ushijima poked at the dandelion unable to block out the loud voice from past the wooden fence.

The first voice spoke whip-quick to his companion, "She's a bitch, trust me."

The words landed heavily on Ushijima's shoulders, for a reason he couldn't quite express verbally, and he became relieved at the familiar sight of his father's boots in the line of Ushijima's crouched vision.

He hugged the man's legs and Utsui chuckled. "You missed me that badly?" 

Ushijima froze and then nodded his head eagerly. Utsui patted his hair and set him up on the fence. "I'll show you some nice sword moves to cheer you up, Wakatoshi. Just watch." He grinned over his shoulder before vaulting himself over the fence in a swift push of his arm to approach the practice post on the field.

The unease of those strangers' words went away in favour of his father's exciting actions on the field. But the syllable sat in the back of his head when he closed his eyes before bed. By morning the thought bothered him to such an extent he couldn't control his mouth.

Ushijima asked Hayato who dressed him, "What does 'bitch' mean?" He was curious to understand so he was not confused over people's words even if they are strangers and adults who are taller, stronger and smarter than him.

"Wakatoshi!" He grabbed onto the child's shoulders, kneeling to look directly into his eyes. "Don't ever use that word about anyone! It is bad manners!"

"I won't use it," Ushijima said because Hayato's eyes were scary when he spoke in this way and if Ushijima were to disobey he knew Hayato couldn't stand to be around him anymore. And Hayato was practically his older brother no matter how much Hayato claimed otherwise. 

"Promise?" The teenager extended his pinky out to the prince.

"I promise." They hooked their pinkies together and Hayato smiled in relief, continuing to button up Ushijima's shirt.

Ushijima reassured, "I won't ever use it, Hayato-san. But what does it mean?"

"I told you it's a bad word. It speaks badly of women, so don't speak that word unless you want your mother to be upset."

"I won't!" Ushijima's heart burst at the thought of speaking badly of his mother. He recalled the fairy tale stories she told when he was a toddler. His heart ached at the memory. Internally he decided that he did not like those men who spoke that word so casually as if it did not hurt people's feelings.

Hayato nodded, "Very good." He dusted off the boy's shoulders with an air of finality as he rose to his feet.

At the time, Ushijima didn't seriously think he would ever hear his mother be spoken wrongly of, for she was the Queen. And who could ever speak ill of the Queen?

♠♠♠

By age eleven, Ushijima was pretty much on his own in the castle, left to come up with new ways to occupy himself. At least on days that Leon was stuck in school and thus, couldn't train with him with practice swords.

His father became busy as well, though his work was far more humanitarian than his mother who spent time pouring over building plans and trade routes with officials. In contrast, Utsui spent time kissing babies heads and speaking to the people as an equal. 

He was the one people thought of fondly when they heard the court of Shirtorizawa’s name- the warm King of Shiratorizawa who smiled like the sun's rays gliding over one's cheeks. The crowd-pleaser and the heart swooner in young women’s eyes. With age, his father had become even more popular amongst Shiratorizawa’s people, while Noriko cooped herself up for only royals and soldiers to see daily. The people would consider themselves lucky to see a single strand of her dark hair for an instance. She was that rare of a sight amongst Shiratorizawa’s everyday citizens. A hidden gem, some would describe her to be. 

So while his father toured the villages with his right-hand men and Noriko spent her own time going over simulations with her high trained guard and Washijou-sensei, Ushijima spent his days trailing after Hayato and pulling on his sleeves for sporadic questions that muddled his mind. 

Ushijima was naturally curious as all young children tend to be, especially without his father or mother around to rein in his words. After learning the word Ushijima never spoke of, an overflowing dam of questions appeared whenever he overheard words he didn't understand. His vocabulary grew, but so did his eagerness to gain immediate answers.

Hayato would answer each question calmly (at least the ones that were age appropriate), though if the prince asked too much he’d become annoyed so Ushijima would save his curiosity for later. Perhaps at a time when Hayato wasn't busy restocking fancy robes into Ushijima's wardrobe.

Hayato taught him many tasks over those lonely days he roamed around the castle. How to ride a horse without help, what to do at fancy parties or dinners, and generally how to conduct himself as a royal Prince. He was also someone Ushijima thought to be an older brother he could always trust with any of his worries. His smiles were the most reassuring to him, other than his own parents' smiles. To himself Ushijima secretly thought that Hayato felt the same way as the servant sat with him over lunch, conversing with Ushijima idly.

Hayato cleaned his face when he got soup all over his collar by accident. The man tutted in displeasure, already grabbing a handkerchief to wipe at his chin. 

“Hayato-san, thank you." Ushijima met the older boy's eyes in hope that he would understand the meaning behind his words. _Thank you for not leaving_. Ushijima clenched his spoon back into his left hand and scooped up another portion to his own mouth.

Hayato paused at the sudden expression of gratitude since most nobles barely sent him a glance. Words of thanks were shocking to be heard, especially from actual royalty. 

His teeth glinted as he grinned and replied, “just try to keep your food in your mouth, Wakatoshi. So I don’t have to clean up after you again.” He ruffled Ushijima’s hair and when Hayato turned to leave, Ushijima noticed the tiny smile that washed over his face, clearly pleased by Ushijima’s words. 

Ushijima thought he should thank Hayato more often, to see him look this happy once again.

♠♠♠

It was wintertime, the castle was chilly and Hayato was complaining about the mess everyone made these days. It also meant that his parents were both around due to the lack of incentive to travel during the colder months. Everyone, even royalty was stuck indoors and were wary to risk the biting air against red fingers.

At age thirteen, Ushijima had already become composed with his duties as prince of the Kingdom, so when his parents sent him a piece of parchment paper to meet them in the negotiation room, which was meant for meeting between country officials, he wasn't nervous in the slightest. He didn't know what to expect but followed the order as any soldier would if a Queen ever called them to action. Quietly and without complaint.

"We have something important to tell you, Ushijima," his mother explained as she folded her hands together over shiny wood. For once they weren't gloved, which meant the matter they would be speaking of was serious. Also, the fact that she actually took her spare time to sit down with Ushijima at all indicated that well on its own. Utsui was to her right side a half metre of space between their chairs that had become a normal occurrence these days. At least the rare times he had seen the two sitting together for a family dinner. 

His mother's calluses were thick, hugging her thumbs like a second skin. The battle worn skin of her limbs challenged the delicate appearance of her wavy hair pinned back in intricate braids that framed the sides of her face. He was reminded of the fact his mother was a war hero in a single glance to those wearied fingers. Noriko didn't twitch those fingers after his look to her hands, her lack of care for others' judgement was thick as stone.

She exchanged a quick glance with Utsui who nodded before he reached out to put his hand over Ushijima's interlocked fingers that lay similar to his mother's in a neat clasp over the redwood table. 

His father said, "We are getting a divorce." Then pulled his hand away.

"I know."

Well, not exactly. 

He had seen his father and Hayato speaking in whispers and Hayato had said, "He'll understand," while he patted the older man's shoulder. It was not exactly what he thought could be happening, it seemed like another court mission that would send his father away could have been more possible. But his parents no longer loving one another wasn't too terrible of an outcome. At least the two were not leaving for war. At least they were alive. 

The two of them barely spoke very much anyways, so to announce they no longer loved one another when they recently never exhibited any affection to each other at the few dinners they shared in months was not a very big of a surprise. So, his parents were not in love. Ushijima could surely wrap his head around this.

Utsui's face crumpled at Ushijima's words as if he had slapped him in the face. Ushijima didn't understand the upset look. His father opened his mouth to speak but Mother had cut him off quickly, "then you understand that this changes nothing at all."

"Of course. What would this change for me?" Ushijima asked. "It's your relationship. Not mine."

Utsui frowned but didn't open his mouth again at the unimpressed look Noriko levelled him with. 

His mother reaffirmed her stance with an even voice, "Just keep on studying as you have been." She stood and fixed her large dress as she did so, neatly swiping her hands over the unwrinkled skirt. "Our care for you as our son will never waver. We'll always take care of you to our utmost abilities as your parents."

She left the room with the quick pattering of her shoes on wood. No other sound resounded as the door shut behind her dark wavy head of hair. His father put his head in his hands. 

"Father? Are you okay?" Ushijima asked, half-alarmed at the clear rumpled state of his father's appearance. Utsui was usually loud and grinning, but to see his father unravelled over a table was a rare instance of vulnerability Ushijima had never witnessed firsthand. Though, his mother probably had in the far past.

"It's fine. I'm fine." He reached out his hand to Ushijima who grabbed it in an all too familiar manner. "Son, I'm sorry I let you down like this."

"I'm not disappointed. If that's what you're thinking, father. Don't jump to conclusions." He squeezed their joined hands to affirm this fact. Utsui was a man he would hope to become as he grew up, kind and with unmistakable strength in his heart to defend others.

Utsui chuckled with a shake of his head, "Of course you're not. You're the greatest son a man could ask for. I'm mad at myself, I suppose."

"Why?" Ushijima arched his eyebrow and his father patted his left hand over their handhold before extracting his fingers back to his lap. 

Utsui sighed, "It's hard to explain." His eyes darted to the table and Ushijima could tell Utsui was shifting in his seat in a way that felt familiar to his own struggle to remain comfortable in these fancy chairs over the years. Ushijima stood up to quell his own tailbone's ache and his father followed suit. They began to walk to the door, side by side and Ushijima nudged Utsui with a quick tap of his elbow.

"Do you still love mom?" The Prince didn't see a problem in a divorce unless Utsui had contempt or lingering anger over their breakage in a romantic relationship. 

"Of course. Just not the same as before- at least for her. For me, it's complicated. She says nothing will change, but there will be changes. Slowly there will be." Utsui leaned in close, his arms open as he turned to face his son. 

Ushijima was confused and his father chuckled, "do I have to say it? Come on son. Give your old man a hug." 

Ushijima hugged his father, more because his father had tears lining his eyes than that he sought out the hug himself. Now that he was a teenager hugging was no longer the same, there was an air of awkward tension clouding his mind. A sound that muttered this affection was a weakness. He fought off the voice, but it never quite goes away.

♠♠♠

Ushijima rushed to his bedchambers, and angrily tossed his smallsword onto his bedsheets. The words those men had spoken of the Queen roared through his ears and his hands shook as he dressed for his late dinner with his mother. His parents no longer ate together now that they were separated.

He supposed these were the changes Utsui meant. The terrible words that people spoke behind his mother's back of her being a whore who cheated on her husband and also the fact his father wouldn't be around the castle as often to get used to this new relationship status. Next time, Ushijima wished his father could warn him in a more direct manner. So he wasn't startled by people's harsh tone as they whispered behind badly concealed stares of judgement in their eyes.

He buttoned up his shirt hastily, already knowing that Mother would complain if he didn't button it up all the way. The collar felt tight against his throat but the sight would please her calculated gaze, so he burst out of his bedchambers dressed in his best attire.

He passed by Hayato in the hallway and waved in silent greeting. The man was busy speaking to two young servants flanking his sides but he still nodded acknowledgement. 

At dinner, Noriko spoke without any air of tension in her voice and seemed to be poised in perfect angles with every movement as she ate. There was no note to any potential dissent in her own castle's walls by the way she held her head in its usual regal level of height. Upturned enough to deem herself royalty and a person of high honour amidst the court of Shiratorizawa.

Ushijima updated her on his studies and she spoke of their history with Seijou with a slight twitch of her brow that hinted to her undeniable distrust of the country, despite their current assumed treaty.

A servant he recognized who spoke ill of mother last week cleaned up their empty plates. Ushijima clenched his fists under the table and clacked his teeth together once the man was gone. 

Silently, Noriko raised an eyebrow, her interest piqued. Though the lidded state of her eyes indicated she was unimpressed by his lack of table posture.

Ushijima frowned, “Mom, why do they speak wrongly of you, I-I hate it so much, but I don’t want to waste my time on telling them off.”

“Why do they call me a bitch, you mean?” Noriko waved her wrist casually as if the two of them were speaking of the weather rather than of her own workers' potty mouths.

“You don’t have to speak it aloud mother.” Ushijima closed his eyes and recalled the words those older Knights had said when they thought Ushijima wasn't listening during their training. They were revolting, that's what they were, and they weren't worth her time.

Noriko questioned with a frown, “Why not? They say it loud and clear every time I walk by, so I can mimic them all I like."

“You can. It’s just,” -

She slammed her chalice down, the sweet wine spilling over the lip of the cup in a trickle of red over her fingers. “Not appropriate for my status, or the fact that I’m a woman?"

Ushijima's shoulders shook at the sudden action, his back stiff in his seat now that his usually calm mother was glaring at him from across the table.

"I want you to listen closely, Wakatoshi, you hear me?" She pointed her unpainted fingernail at him. "Do not listen to those boys' words nor do you instill their thoughts as your own. Whoever told you a woman mustn't speak crudely is telling you a load of bull. This is why people speak of me in such a manner: Men are intimidated by women who can lead and so they degrade us and try to take away our right to power and respect.” 

Leaning over the table, she grabbed his face with both her palms. Her voice was desperate as she spoke, “You mustn’t do that Wakatoshi, you hear me?” 

“Yes, I swear it," Ushijima replied and she hummed approval, leaning back into her cushioned seat with calm ease. The prince continued, "You’ve taught me how to succeed and conduct myself to be the Prince, as has Dad. He treats you as he treats his comrades, with respect and honour.” 

She added with amusement pitching her voice higher, “And as you’ll treat your future wife, my son.” Noriko raised the chalice back to her red lips with a huff of a laugh before she drank the wine. 

Ushijima felt his cheeks twinge red at the implication of her words. “I suppose- er I mean of course.” 

She ruffled his hair, “you’re still so silly, aren’t you, Wakatoshi?” her voice was fond and so his worries over those men's words faded in favour of basking in a rare moment of warmth to his mother's gaze while she giggled behind her cup to hide her smile.

♠♠♠

During the summer that Ushijima turned 14, he was officially deemed a Knight along with Leon. Though Leon was a year older, the two were equal in experience and skills, with the occasional instance where Ushijima would overwhelm Leon using his sheer power of his left-handed swordsmanship the only exception.

The men had respected and cursed Ushijima's hand in the same breath due to his strength and the Prince supposed his father was right in that this quality that might have previously been seen as weak was undeniably an advantage in battle. Sadly, his right hand was lacking in swordsmanship skills, but he believed over time he would be truly ambidextrous with enough focus placed on his daily exercises. 

Shirabu looked on at their tiny ceremony with a fire in his eyes that Leon immediately commented on afterwards: "you'll follow us soon after, don't worry." He rubbed Shirabu's shoulder gently to convey his assurance.

As usual the boy bristled at the touch and skittered a step out of reach from Leon's open palm. "I'm not worried!" Shirabu huffed, completely affronted he'd suggest so.

Leon turned to Ushijima who was inspecting his sword. "How are you feeling now that you're an official Knight?"

Ushijima peered up and blinked slowly. "Hm, I am not surprised. It was expected."

Shirabu and Leon laughed at the response, both amused at his blunt attitude. Leon said, "Of course you aren't."

"I don't feel very different since we are not among my mother's guard yet. But I'm glad to be following my father's footsteps," Ushijima explained as he sheathed his sword. To be amidst his mother's high ranked guard was his goal but for now, being declared Knight is not an accomplishment to scoff at. In Ushijima's case it was more of a formality since he was the Prince, but he did believe the celebration was due for Leon who had worked strenuously to be even considered for the position because of his lack of noble blood. Which complicated his consideration for becoming a Knight multiple times. Thankfully, Ushijima's parents vouched for Leon on those occasions.

Leon smiled and laid an arm over Ushijima's shoulder, "Speaking of the Queen, I heard she has a dinner planned for celebration. Are we invited as well?"

Shirabu eyes widened at the casual manner Leon suggested they join Ushijima who shrugged noncommittally in reply. "It's my celebration so she shouldn't care who I bring, I assumed you'd both join us. Not only to celebrate my Knighthood, but yours as well, Leon. You've worked hard."

Leon flushed at the straightforward compliment, unused to Ushijima giving them out so flippantly. "I'd gladly love to join the festivities. Shirabu, are you coming as well?" 

The younger teen rolled his eyes, "yes. My father was invited, anyway. I was already going." But Leon could tell by the tug of his lips he was thrilled to be acknowledged by Ushijima as a part of their tight-knit group. 

"By the way, my mother invited the historian, sir Ida to join us for dinner," Ushijima said while they walked back to the castle. It was unspoken that the man was the Queen's current lover, since she didn't invite people to the small gatherings they held meant for those she held dear to her. Especially personal matters concerning her son such as his acceptance into the Knights general guard.

"This will be an interesting night," Shirabu commented and Leon agreed wholeheartedly. 

At dinner, Sir Ida and Queen Ushijima kept glancing at one another with smiles hidden behind cups of ale. The man was new to this strange range of guests, sat timidly and soft-spoken in comparison to other men at the table, but Noriko's eyes didn't falter nor see his hesitation as a weakness. It was clear she was infatuated by the knowledge he possessed and calmness which he reiterated it to the people around him. Ushijima was content in his seat and joined the conversation sporadically when he would usually spend time with his nose locked onto his plate. 

The family was unconventional before Leon, but he knew by the calmness of Ushijima's eyes that the teen was supportive of his mother's new love. Utsui was also grinning from ear to ear with Leon's father at his side, and so Leon thought the family was complete with this new addition to their table. 

Without the eyes of the masses on them, the Ushijima family was at ease and Leon watched the dinner unfold with a heart swelling from happiness.

♠♠♠

It was August 13th, the early evening before the ball truly had begun quite yet. His mother planned a large-scale ball filled with various noble guests and foreign visitors for Ushijima's sixteenth birthday. A much grander affair than last year's celebration.

Ushijima was already dressed to perfection by Hayato, who had scampered back and forth through multiple outfit options Noriko already tailored to fit him. Hayato decided what was best because Ushijima didn't understand the obsession with clothing and often had zero input to provide in terms of what he thought looked better. Ultimately, Hayato chose a darker green ensemble and pressed amethyst gem jewellery into his palms for him to accessorize as he pleased. 

"I can't decide everything for you," Hayato had said. So Ushijima chose two rings, one for each hand and returned the necklace to Hayato, who added his crown atop Ushijima's head. The crown was thin and silver in a vine like mold that swirled up and down. Tiny silver feather designs were carved into the crown a subtle call to Shiratorizawa's symbolic eagle, native to their lands. That was when a servant had knocked and asked Ushijima to visit his mother's quarters because she requested to see him right away. 

Which brought the newly appointed sixteen year old Ushijima in front of his mother. Noriko was being dressed by her maidservant, Kawanishi-san, a smaller woman with light red hair that turned half gold in the sunlight when Ushijima had seen her outside the castle earlier that day through his window. Her son, Taichi, had been trailing after her then, though he was nowhere to be seen at the moment. Kawanishi gave Ushijima a small smile over her shoulder in response to his entrance with a nod of her head.

Noriko greeted Ushijima briefly, but Kawanishi was still fixing her corset so she demanded she stay still. The sight of his mother being undressed was not very odd, he recalled days as a child where she'd ask Ushijima to help add her jewelry to her arms and he had enjoyed the tiny moments where she thanked him for his sweet help with a pat to his head.

"Sorry for the sudden call to my quarters, Wakatoshi. But this occasion does call for us to meet personally for once. You're already so grown!" 

Ushijima indeed had grown in height, he supposed. He clasped his hands together and shrugged, uncertain of how to respond. The door opened behind him after a quick halfhearted knock, revealing Utsui who gaped at the sight of Noriko.

Noriko said, "Oh great, you're here, Utsui," as she turned around to Kawanishi's request to place her legs into her large expansive skirt that was shaped similar to the sun in its roundness.

The older man immediately scrambled around to face the closed door he just entered from. Noriko rolled her eyes at his response. "It's nothing you haven't already seen before, your chivalry is wasted." 

"I won't be disrespectful," Utsui replied, unwilling to budge as he crossed his arms in front of him. Ushijima stood between the two, eyes bouncing back and forth at their heated discussion with an air of dull expectation to their usual half-hearted quips to one another that didn't really mean anything malicious, but was fairly teasing instead.

Noriko sighed, exasperated by her previous lover. "I'm trying to have a rare family moment, Takashi. Please turn around for your son's sake."

Utsui grumbled, with a curse under his breath, but turned around nonetheless. The smile that fell onto Noriko's lips was similar to a cat with a timid canary in its line of sight; very pleased and smug in its current position. Noriko extended her arms as Kawanishi-san adjusted the sleeves and a younger servant girl added bangles and thick diamond bracelets to her arms as Kawanishi-san had directed her. 

With the two women fluttering around her Noriko looked up at the two who stood in front of her with a genuine smile. "So you're sixteen today, my little Wakatoshi. I think it's best you open our gift to you right now instead of after the celebration."

Utsui nodded when Ushijima turned to him with a raised eyebrow. "Go ahead kid, open your gift already. We picked it out together. Though, it was your mother's main idea as usual."

"Oh quiet, you," Noriko muttered with her lips pursed. It was tiny but Ushijima could tell she was flustered and perhaps embarrassed by this moment of generosity she was exhibiting. "Just open it already, son. Before your father ruins it and spoils the surprise."

Ushijima said, "I will, I will," to placate the two as he walked to the desk with a fancy decorated box, decked in a large maroon ribbon of Shiratorizawa's colour. He opened the lid and was greeted with a colour which matched the flags that flung themselves outside the castle walls. It was a cloak, a thick winter garment the colour of Shiratorizawa. One to match what his parents often wore when they went to battle or to official meetings with Seijoh or Hama. 

"It's beautiful," he uttered as he raised the thick material up for everyone to behold its magnificence. The softness under his fingertips was familiar to what he recalled of his childhood, of the times he pulled at his mother's cloak or hid behind it, afraid of what he foresaw. Surely, tears were not brimming his eyes, were there? He smiled wide up at them, "Thank you. So much. I'll cherish this."

Mother and Father exchanged a quick glance to each other before they both laughed brightly, amused at the reaction he gave. Though, Utsui laughed a lot louder, while Noriko simply giggled behind her now jingling arms where her bracelets clashed in a musical manner. 

Utsui patted his son's shoulder. "You deserve Shiratorizawa's best. So we had it made to fit you now that you have properly grown."

"I can't wait to see you wear it to battle," Noriko hummed. 

Ushijima shook his head. "I may wear it to practice in the winter."

Noriko clucked her tongue, and sighed, "you better not get it too dirty. Do you know who we had to arrange to make that on such short notice? I also had to eye up your measurements from afar for weeks. Though, Shirabu-kun helped fill in the gaps, since he has a great eye."

"Shirabu helped?" Ushijima asked, surprised by his involvement.

"I ordered him to, more like it," Noriko giggled behind a white gloved hand. "He can't refuse the Queen can he?" 

Utsui groaned, "Noriko, you're terrible."

Kawanishi interrupted them, "Queen Ushijima, your earrings, you said you wanted to wear these?" She held up a pair Ushijima was unfamiliar with, they looked very simple in comparison to the flashier items that lined her arms, but her eyes glittered. Preening at the woman's actions she stood silently as she pushed on the bronze earrings that did not dangle as her old ones had. 

Utsui waggled his eyebrows at her in clear insinuation to who had gifted them to her and she elbowed him as best she could while Kawanishi was still stabbing the earring through her lobes. "Oh quiet, you arsehole." 

Still, Noriko touched the earring unconsciously with a smile as they exited her quarters. It reminded him of what his tutor had once told him years ago, because Sir Ida brought a side to his mother he rarely ever witnessed. Perhaps if she wasn't the eldest daughter, that's where his mother would be. Quietly holed up in a library with stacks and stacks of books surrounding her. In that life, she would not have to be a ruthless warrior. Maybe in that world she'd regularly smile as she did now when she pressed a finger to the golden bronze at her ear.

♠♠♠

Throughout the last week, with the thought of the upcoming ball on people's minds, Ushijima had realized plenty of aspects about those around him. Especially the boys he worked alongside in training.

People his age all naturally batted eyes at one another and in contrast, Ushijima found himself completely uninterested. His peers would speak of hearts beating rapidly and looks sent over shoulders and Ushijima would bat his eyes, confused at the thought for he had never experienced such a thing and was honestly worried about their health at first. 

He felt especially behind the flock of older teens who actively pursued these women and began wooing them into beds. It was a time for releasing frustrations and of exploring the unknown, the throes of passion. Like a fire had emerged underneath them all, everyone was desperate to get close, to touch hands and caress, whilst Ushijima looked on in confusion, too occupied by his combat practice with Washijou-sensei. 

He had even caught Leon locking lips with a servant girl, the one with kind eyes that crinkled as she smiled. They had been hastily wedged between two columns and Ushijima turned tail at the sight, too awkward to acknowledge his friend's current romance. He didn't even mention it over lunch the next day.

At least Ushijima was not the only one uninterested, while he had seen many young Knights brag or speak loudly of women they have secretly met with, Shirabu stood stiffly, a cold expression marring his face. Ushijima didn't have the courage to ask Shirabu of his thoughts of everyone's sudden interest in love and courtship rituals, because perhaps Shirabu was shy to speak of his own feelings. He guessed that Shirabu was a private person by nature, he wouldn't speak of a girl he was courting to anyone. Ushijima idly thought that Shirabu would show up married one day after a trip back home and he'd be the type of individual to never give any more information than required to seem polite to a Prince. It was the overall personal habits of Shirabu, who rarely shared about his personal life anyways, that spurred on these thoughts as he walked beside Utsui down the hall to enter the ball as the guest of honour. 

Utsui patted him on the shoulder roughly with a grin that split his face into clear excitement. He said, “I heard from one of the Knights that Lady Sara can’t stop talking about you and asked where you might be sitting tonight. You’ve got a chance, my boy!” 

Ushijima furrowed his brows. “Shouldn’t I wait for a political arrangement by you and Mother?” Between the two of them Ushijima abandoned the titles he used when referring to his parents, though with his mother he couldn’t bring himself to call her that in a simple hallway, he’d likely fear of being overheard. But his father had always been casual, even with the knights he employed, he treated them as he would a brother, to the displeasure of Utsui's own younger brother, who was often left behind. 

His father laughed heartily, a large grin encompassing his face. He gripped Ushijima's shoulder gently, “Son, your mom and I had our share of fun with others far before we were engaged to marry. And as you’ve seen with the two of us, not every engagement is bursting with mutual love, sometimes it won’t work out. You should enjoy your freedom while you still have it. It’ll be gone in a couple of years and you’ll regret not taking the leap while you still can.” 

Ushijima hummed in acknowledgement, and decided that he would attempt to try as his father asked over the course of the ball. Surely a simple dance would do well enough of people's expectations when interacting with a Prince.

♠♠♠

His conversation with Lady Sara was not going as anticipated. To put it simply he had nothing in common to speak of her about. He decided that it would be presumptuous of him to offer her a dance when he did not reciprocate her feelings. His heart was not stuttering as other boys have described and as he stood beside Sara he did not believe himself to be giddy with anticipation of the different possibilities. Instead he was thinking of when he would stop speaking to her so that he could speak to Washijou-sensei about his future training. The cloak his parents had gifted him had inspired a new outlook to his future so he was eager to learn further under the old man's tutelage.

When he remembered the gift he received, he thought it might be a smooth conversation starter to be on common ground with Sara. Sharing about what he had been given could allow them to form a common connection of some form. "My parents gifted me a present already."

She smiled up at him, and kept twirling the bracelet around her wrist in rigid pulls. "Oh really? What did you receive, then?" 

"A winter cloak for travel," Ushijima replied.

She frowned, "Oh, that's all? I thought the Queen would be far more excessive with her gift-giving considering this grand celebration she made."

Ushijima's lips were in a thin line, his heart fell at the lack of interest in her eyes. She waved an arm, "I'm sure there are far sweeter gifts one can receive. I can name a few." Her eyelashes fluttered, dark against her pale skin and she reached out for his arm sleeve. Ushijima stepped away slightly, and attempted to presume a face of complete comfort when he felt anything but in this situation. 

"I must be leaving, Lady Sara," he bowed politely with her arm still held up in the air between them. Her mouth was open in confusion as to what had occurred without her realization. "I do not feel the same, Sara. And it would be terrible for me to say otherwise when I do not. We are not compatible at all."

Her face flushed and she curtsied in a hurry, likely in fear of those around her who could overhear their conversation. Ushijima waved as he turned away, "Enjoy your night at the ball."

The prince spoke to a few nobles who greeted him on his way back to his family. His father appeared out of nowhere as usual by clamping his arm roughly around his shoulders and ruffling his nicely combed hair. Hayato would be displeased if he found out all his hard work was destroyed by a careless action of his father. Ushijima hoped Hayato did not spy them from wherever he stood at the ball on a well-deserved break courtesy of Noriko's orders.

Utsui asked straight into his ear, "Son, what was that you just did?" 

"I greeted the visitors to the ball," Ushijima stated.

"No, no," Utsui shook his head and pointed behind him with his right thumb. "With Sara-chan. What happened?"

"I told her I had no such feelings for her and left."

Utsui sighed while rubbing his forehead. "Wakatoshi, you need to be aware of others around you and empathize with them. You can't just say words that hurt so easily to a young person in love."

"So you wanted me to lie."

Utsui blew a rushed breath past his lips before he spoke with an even tone, “No, not lie. Just speaking more politely or kindly to her.” He slapped his son's back lightly in reprimand and took off on his heel to speak to Ohira-san who was stuffing his face with an assortment of pastries at a nearby table. 

Ushijima didn’t realize that he spoke unkindly, the subtleties of conversation were strange. He remembered how Prince Oikawa of the competing major powerhouse that was the land of Seijou reacted to his comment that critiqued his sword skills. The boy had taken his comment as an insult to his worthiness rather than a critique or an attempt to give him advice. He had wrinkled his nose and called Ushijima a “rude pack mule” in reply.

Ushijima supposed he still has a lot to learn in terms of romance and communication as well as the diplomacy of being a Prince of Shiratorizawa. He hoped one day he could excel at both, but for now he preferred to stick by himself and train. Even if the other boys fell in love it wasn't a requirement for Ushijima to follow in their footsteps. 

For in the long run, his parents would pick whatever suitor they saw fit in the end.

♠♠♠

The next day his father and Ohira-san left to search for a mysterious artifact. Leon joined Ushijima’s side to send them off together.

The memory was warm, bathed in the orange and yellow light characteristic of August. Leon told him he couldn’t wait to see what they brought back home.

Ushijima nodded and thought of what possible treasure Shiratorizawa may obtain and what his mother would say once she saw it. Her eyes would gleam with a definite interest. She enjoyed collecting pretty objects for their castle to display.

He was sixteen and his heart felt warm under the sun’s rays. That was his last memory of his father. Warmth and a bittersweet goodbye on his tongue.

♠♠♠

With a romantic separation, the people talked, of course. This was the main reason as to why his father had been away from the castle so very often when they told the younger Ushijima of their separation in that cold negotiation room. But Ushijima saw strength in the acknowledgement of their lack of love for one another. They were not liars, and they never taught Ushijima to lie to earn more respect or control. What Ushijima didn’t know was that his father realized that being by her side only turned the people against her judgement. Utsui had decided to leave, knowing that his strengths lied on the battlefield rather than politically as with his ex, who controlled the alliances and the nobles in a way he never could, far too lacking in the intricacies of subtlety in the social warfare.

He thus went on a trip to retrieve a magical artifact that was rumoured to bestow great power onto anyone who found it.

Utsui likely did this because he knew in the future their Kingdom may war with Seijou once more. And the King, who wanted to support his family, knew she’d want them to be as prepared as possible. Otherwise, without the help of this artifact Shiratorizawa may fall in the the near future.

♠♠♠

Summer became autumn, where the harvest started and ended. The leaves turned various vibrant shades of red and orange. The nights got cooler, and with it general talk around the castle moved at higher speeds since people were bustling together in fits of their heavy work to discuss whatever matters plagued their mind. The royal family, specifically the King’s absence was a prime target for gossip.

People whispered that Utsui had journeyed to a cursed forest near Seijoh’s borders. Ushijima did not think too deeply of these rumours at the time. His father’s return was self-assured to him because his father meant every promise he made. 

He wouldn’t lie to Ushijima’s expectant gaze when he left home. His father may be fleeing the castle temporarily, but once the rumours dwindle of his parent’s separation and his mother’s new lover, Utsui would come back to where he belonged. 

Curses should stay confined within the fairytales his mother narrated at bedtime when he was a toddler. They did not exist in Ushijima’s reality. The notion was absurd.

♠♠♠

By December, the rumours folks whispered grew to exasperating amounts. So much so, Ushijima couldn’t go a single week without overhearing their rapid-pace mutterings behind his broad back. He would think for gossipers it would be their priority to ensure he wasn’t within earshot but for some reason these people had a serious lack of self-preservation skills to continue to work at their castle grounds.

The rumours were warped to further inane degrees. This time, Ushijima heard visitors and workers alike spin a tale that the King was cursed because of the adultery the Queen committed. And in some extreme cases he overheard a man indicate that the Queen had sent Utsui to the cursed forest to get him out of the castle and replace him with Sir Ida. The rumours grated on his nerves, but he turned a blind eye to their traitorous words, because he knew they were likely repeating words they overheard from others which had somehow broken apart and changed in such a way that the story became completely unrecognizable. 

He couldn’t say anything to those who only listened to the worst and believed those words wholeheartedly without a single question upon their lips for clarification. Individuals he didn’t know personally were never his priority, so Ushijima stuck to himself. Leon and Shirabu were the few individuals he spent regular time with, besides Hayato who was akin to a relative at this point. 

The leaves fell and the rumours were still hot on the Ushijima family’s heels even with the drop in temperature.

♠♠♠

January arrived like an old friend, consistent and reliable in its presence. Ushijima felt anything but at ease. The change in month meant it had been half a year since Utsui was gone. It did not help that his mother was clearly avoiding him for weeks, despite it being winter when most of the nobles were all cooped up inside and any visitors of Shiratorizawa had already long travelled back to their countries to seek refuge from the unforgiving weather. Ushijima had intended to ask about when she expected Utsui to arrive back. Also, to get details as well, such as what time he told her that he was supposed to return by.

Ushijima knew deep down that his father would’ve indicated that it was a longer trip surely if he intended to be gone for half a year. Therefore, what exactly was his mother not telling him? He needed to discover the truth lying beneath the snow’s surface. The truth laid out on the grass beneath the snow. The same weeds which swayed on that summer afternoon where Utsui waved goodbye atop a hill before disappearing behind the curving land's surface. 

The truth was not uncovered however for Ushijima’s mother avoided him with a practiced ease of a parent who was often never around on most days.

It didn't help that Ushijima himself couldn’t face Leon as easily without their meetups becoming latent in obvious worry for their fathers. So he was avoiding someone too. And he knew Leon deserved a better friend than one who blanched at the thought of acknowledging a potential loss. 

He was just like his mother in that manner, Ushijima guessed. Though, he didn’t continuously leave Leon in the dust as his mother had been for months. She was a professional at this game of cat and mouse. He was certain she played it on multiple occasions with her enemies as well as those she held dear to her.

So January for Prince Ushijima was spent with half-hearted attempts at tracking down his mother. At which everyone placated him with false truths or ignored him as if he never spoke in the first place. The common words were that she was 'very busy' and 'could not see him at the moment'. And because his mother was evasive to extremes in this enormous castle with hidden hallways and secret doors, it was impossible to locate her without a single hint to her whereabouts by anyone.

Hayato was also a part of this scheme. But Ushijima could tell the man's eyes were sympathetic as he spoke the lies past his lips.

In mid-February, Ushijima began to be impatient and eager to put an end to the swarming questions in his mind. Utsui was still gone and the castle was missing its swelling heart of warmth without him spurring on conversations with wide grins and casual arms strung over his comrades shoulders. The Knights were particularly down in the dumps, but Shirabu’s father and Washijou-sensei (when he wasn't busy manning Shiratorizawa's borders) were adamant on maintaining their training regimes and daily schedules of guarding the castle. Their days maintained a spinning wheel’s balance despite a core absence among their ranks of the well-known duo who were missing.

Ushijima cornered Hayato after a particularly gruelling practice of army formations in the fields. His shoulders ached from the exercise but he made a beeline to Hayato who jolted at the sudden arrival to Ushijima’s bedchambers with his back turned. Hayato exhaled, “Oh, it’s you! Wakatoshi, you startled me!” He had a hand on his chest and he sighed before he turned back to smoothing out Ushijima’s freshly changed bed sheets.

“Have you seen my mother today?” Ushijima asked as he dropped his thick boots to the ground to change into more comfortable loafers. The boots thudded in a clear mess of mud and Hayato curled his nose up in annoyance, immediately lunging down to properly right the boots side by side. Ushijima peered down at the man from his seat in the spare chair by the door as he slipped his right loafer on.

“I haven't seen her, no,” Hayato replied. 

“Hm,” Ushijima hummed with a frown.

Hayato rose from his crouch as Ushijima stood from the creaky wooden chair. Hayato began to turn away from him again but Ushijima having reached his limit of well-sculpted lies repeated to him gripped the shorter man’s shoulders barring his motion to end their conversation. “Hayato.”

Ushijima demanded, “Tell me where she is. I _know_ you’re lying.” His mother hadn’t even sat with him for dinner in three months. The facts were obvious now that she was not willing to speak to him because of Utsui’s too long mission. He needed to speak to her about his father or he’ll be consumed by this tension breaking apart the gears of their castle’s usual well-oiled structure. “ _Please_ ,” he added, as he shook Hayato’s shoulders to relay his exasperation. He had never pleaded so desperately before and would prefer to never experience such a drastic situation as this where he has to resort to begging for answers.

Hayato blinked up at him, with his eyebrows curled up in sympathy. “I’m sorry, Wakatoshi.”

“Just tell me where she is and I’ll forgive you.”

Hayato chuckled wetly, his voice strained upon the weight of lies he had spoken over the last three months. “Of course you would be forgiving, I don’t why I would think otherwise. I’ll tell you, I promise, so please, relax, will ya?” Hayato assured Ushijima with a consoling grip of his junior’s elbow. Ushijima deflated at the brotherly action, relief washing over his face like a breath of fresh air.

♠♠♠

When asked of Utsui’s whereabouts his mother told him: “He is not a weak man, Wakatoshi.”

“What about when he will be returning, do you know when?”

“Wakatoshi, I have more important matters to attend to, I do not know why you’re bothering me with the details of your Father’s mission, mind you,” she replied harshly as she fiddled with the papers strewn across her desk. The library’s desk was her own desk all the same, of course she was not in her study because Ushijima had checked that spot this morning. Hayato’s help was greatly appreciated.

“It’s been half a year, mother,” he pleaded, his fingers tightly clasped together to reassure himself of his words to be a fact. His father hadn’t stepped foot back in the castle for as long as Ushijima had been alive. He never left for this long. Surely his mother would understand this.

She sighed, letting go of her papers. “He will be fine. You are far too worried about him, when he trusted you to keep with your studies.”

Ushijima knew this to be true, but guilt was laden in the back of his throat, desperate to escape and demand more answers from his mother she was unwilling to describe to him. She didn’t see it fit to explain her ex-husband’s whereabouts when she knew he would come back at some point. She truly believed in the man’s resolve to an extent that she was unfazed by his absence. She gently placed a hand over his shaking clasped fingers. “Focus on your own problems, not others. You must learn how to succeed the throne, you’re almost of age, Wakatoshi, you need to be knowledgeable as well as strong!”

Ushijima was quiet, unable to speak immediately after such a grand declaration of expectation. Though the expectation existed at the back of his mind it was hard to hear it so blatantly spoken as his reality. He would succeed the throne and rule, because he was the only son she ever had. 

“If you can’t do your training, I’ll be disappointed in you for being unable to continue as your father wanted you to. As we both did,” she uttered her voice low and smooth. He felt as if she were taming a skittered lion cub trembling in the corner of its cage. She was calmly caressing his clasped hands in a practiced motion of someone who had placated many in her lifetime. He wondered if this was how Noriko had treated her little sister when she still lived within Shiratorizawa’s borders. 

Ushijima noticed she was coughing a little between sentences, but she covered it so that she was clearing her throat to an untrained eye. 

He told her to rest and she rolled her eyes. “If you are training hard, my boy, then I must not slack off as well. I must rule and keep this peace consistent.” 

She patted his hands one last time before retreating back to her papers and Ushijima restrained the urge to reach out and pat her hand in return for the warmth she offered him, however brief it be. But the moment passed quickly, her attention already elsewhere. Ushijima shut the door behind him at a snail’s pace to not disturb her extreme focus. 

He didn’t notice the hunch in her previously rigid shoulders when he turned away.

♠♠♠

At the final day of the dreary month, the castle erupted in shouts and screeches of worry. The servants called for a Doctor and the Queen’s presence at once.

Ushijima was late to arrive at the scene. His mother was already present and her dark eyebrows were furrowed in clear frustration as well as confusion. A man was being crowded around a rumpled cot in the Doctor’s patient room and Ushijima couldn’t place the man’s face but by his half-discarded clothing he could tell he was a member of their court. 

Hayato explained, “He arrived in the middle of our morning work. He’s Chiba-san.”

Hayato didn’t need to explain further, because he recalled the man’s face with sudden clarity now. A distant spec beside Ohira and Utsui as he awkwardly waved Goodbye to them at Utsui’s fervent prompting to join in the farewell, despite the Knight being only vaguely acquainted to Ushijima and Leon who he had probably only heard of form Utsui’s ramblings during long trips or travels. The man was well-known for knowing the lands of Shiratorizawa like the back of his hand. He could get you anywhere and everywhere and easily memorized maps after staring at them once. The man was necessary on a search mission for an artifact, which was likely why he went along with Utsui and Leon in the first place. But he was here, which meant it was possible that Utsui would be here as well. Ushijima turned his head down to Hayato, his eyes wide, but Hayatyo shook his head sadly. “No, Wakatoshi. Not him. Only Chiba-san. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s great that Chiba-san has come back safely to us,” Ushijima replied.

Hayato frowned with glassy eyes, “I don’t know about that, Wakatoshi.” His brown eyes landed back on the bed and Ushijima followed his stare to witness the sight of a Doctor attempting to calm the clearly frantic looking man. His face was ghastly pale and he kept shaking about on the bed as if seeing a nightmare beside his bed where the Doctor stood. He flinched at any movement and shrinked away from anyone attempting to help.

Noriko demanded, “Everyone but the Doctor, leave the room. We are only worsening his current state.” The maids who had found the man snapped away from their crowding of the bedside, and everyone, including Ushijima followed the Queen’s orders. It seemed the Queen herself was included in her statement because she left the room to the end of the group. 

Hayato explained to Ushijima, “Chiba-san hasn’t spoken anything since they found him. He was very sick on the hallway over, the maids were the ones who brought him a bucket but he freaked out at their help. We don’t know if he’s even hearing us honestly, nothing we say to him helps calm him down.” Hayato appeared disturbed by the frown etched over his chapped lips, the skin half peeled from biting it in anxiety over the state of Chiba-san. Noriko swept a hand over Hayato's stiff shoulders, taller than the man by a slight amount, and a reassuring presence amidst the frantic energy of the servants who had seen a fellow member of their court in such a terrible state. Some of the women likely knew of Chiba-san or greeted him around the castle, they did not think they’d ever see the man appearing as distraught as this.

Noriko stopped everyone’s movement and told them to continue on their usual schedule of the day and to pray for the man’s recovery. The servants and Hayato bowed in assent, and left as they were told. “I meant you as well, sweetie, carry on as you do,” she said to Ushijima who could not really disagree with a direct order from his mother when she bore her olive eyes so seriously towards him.

He hesitated at the end of the hallway, but ultimately returned to the library to meet with his tutor.

A week later, Ushijima heard the Doctors claimed Chiba may have a form of illness that wasn’t visible outwardly. No matter how many Doctors his mother sent for, the answers were all the same. Ushijima rarely saw his mother, but when he did her face was paler than normal, a ghost of the usual tan of her skin similar to Ushijima’s skin tone and her hair was not as neatly placed as if she had been perpetually raking her fingernails through them in viscous fits of displeasure. 

To put it simply, they couldn’t help him and didn’t know how to start helping. He knew that Hayato’s eyes turned purple at the edges, his face becoming sunken over the past weeks. 

Ushijima asked if maybe he should see Chiba, if it would help at all.

Hayato shook his head and bit his lip. “Don’t. For your own sake, don’t visit.” Hayato had turned away to deliver washcloths to the man’s room that Noriko placed Chiba in. They wanted him to feel as comfortable as possible rather than in a dusty patient room. So they worked from a guest bedroom reserved for high class guests. 

Ushijima knew what Hayato meant. Seeing Chiba in a terrible state would only cause him to believe his father was out there suffering like this as well. Hayato didn’t want Ushijima to implant that heartbreaking sight into his mind and so, Ushijima listened and didn’t visit. He heard second hand of Chiba-san’s worsening state of mind and health, and of the doctors inability to figure out an antidote to quell the sickness.

The man died a month later, after he lost the energy to eat. The court and Knights held a funeral for his passing alongside his family members at the city’s cemetery and Hayato looked like he hadn’t gotten any sleep. Leon and Shirabu were silent at Ushijima’s sides. Noriko was stone-faced, her collarbones showed in a manner that indicated she had lost weight. Ushijima’s forehead ached at the sight of his usually headstrong mother appearing so out of sorts. 

At least the day was sunny as they stood mourning. Chiba deserved nothing less than a warm day under the sun to depart from this world and to the next.

♠♠♠

When the news of Chiba-san’s tragic death arrived to the citizens, people began to spread rumours that the King was cursed by the magic he found and that he had died as a result, as they had seen with Chiba-san. But for the King, his terrible fate was left hidden inside the magical forest he couldn’t escape.

Ushijima was uncertain. These talks of magic always seemed out of the realm of possibility. A sword through someone’s back was real, you could see the damage, but flimsy magic was unreal and without proof. They were mainly fairy tales told over bedtime stories, no one had ever seen magic. Even with the past arrests of ‘suspected’ mages when he was a toddler, his parents never spoke of witnessing any magic to Ushijima. And even if their past human ancestors used magic, it was unusable now. No history was passed on orally and no spells were ever found. And those who found books couldn’t read it’s language. No one could use magic. And perhaps their ancestors hadn’t wanted people to use it anymore. The dangers too grand, why else would there be no trace of it left on any people?

♠♠♠

A fortnight later, like a curse emerging, his mother started to become sick. What Ushijima had thought to be a tiny cold was unveiled to be a horrendous omen for the court’s future. Her cough worsened tenfold. Throughout March she pretended as if nothing was wrong, still doing her work but hid within the castle to avoid the unrest of the country discovering their Queen was truly sick after the honorable Knight’s sudden death.

From the warm flower filled the months of spring all the way until July duties were thrust upon Ushijima which he had previously never done on his own. He attended diplomatic meetings on the Queen’s behalf, but nothing of grave importance was discussed, small duties he could handle at this stage of his experience in dealing with nobles. 

Noriko also asked him to train to the utmost of his abilities, so Leon accompanied him to the training grounds until late at night and followed the written training Washijou-sensei left behind as a reminder of the techniques he needed to polish while the elderly man was away at the borders. By the end of the month Noriko had her younger sister, Hana, come over from the neighbouring allied Kingdom of Johzenji on the west coast to help with her duties as she recovered. 

The Queen also made sure that Ushijima’s training was doubled so he would be ready to rule if there were an emergency. Their only regent was not someone she trusted well, Ushijima’s only Uncle, Utsui’s younger brother Katsurou, who had often contributed to the rumours himself of the Queen out of spite, due to her choosing Ushijima’s father over himself. He even refused to live in the castle, despite his older brother’s offers. Instead he opted to live in the city and accompanied his brother on important missions when Utsui needed an extra hand that he could trust would get the job done. But his mother’s condition remained the same, she was unwell. Though she still tried to work to the best of her abilities, her maidservant kept her away from her desk when it became too much. 

Ushijima did not see the subtle changes in his mother’s health for she sent him away to busy himself with his duties and training, which was increased to extreme degrees to ensure Shiartorizawa’s future if he became King. Ushijima didn’t think a simple sickness would be able to kill his mother.

She was too strong to be dethroned so callously from an unknown sickness. He was hoping for some antidote to blink into existence and miraculously save the day. So that he wouldn’t have to become a King without his parents by his side to witness his crowning.

♠♠♠

Before his seventeenth birthday, the royal family of Seijoh visited Shiratorizawa’s castle, bringing the Oikawa royal family to their castle’s walls. Though this time it was only the King and his son, Tooru who arrived. There was a clear lack of Oikawa’s sister's beautiful presence when the royals stepped foot out of their carts. The King brought a different concubine woman from last time to his visit. She was treated similar to a royal despite being a bed partner for the King and Shiratorizawa's workers treated her with just as much respect.

It was a coincidence that they came in time for Ushijima’s birthday, because Seijoh was due to meet with Shiratorizawa to discuss in-person trade deals anyways. It was important to note that Oikawa had always been annoyed that their birthdays were too close. July twentieth was Oikawa’s, so if he visited for Ushijima’s birthday he often missed out on throwing his own celebration at his homeland due to the long travel time to reach Shiratorizawa’s lands. This was why Prince Oikawa hadn’t visited for last year’s birthday. It seemed because of the need for trade negotiations to reoccur, Oikawa’s father had demanded to attend Ushijima’s upcoming birthday celebration and Tooru had been forcibly dragged all the way to their warm lands to witness it.

Oikawa Tooru was the kind of young man who had the status of a royal Prince down to the placating smile that donned his lips at every turn of his head. He was the essence of a Prince but multiplied tenfold. He wore thick clothing due to the North's cooler air, and was thus sweating now that he inhabited Shiratorizawa's lands. Though the perspiration was barely noticeable to an untrained eye. Each time he visited, despite the thick wolf furs which exuded the North's hunting expertise on the other men surrounding him, Tooru wore frilly white collared tunics underneath blue or light green coloured vests which brought out his chocolate brown eyes. And if the youngest Oikawa was particularly motivated to cause his old father (who despised Oikawa's gaudy tastes in clothing) an ulcer he'd show up to greet Ushijima in fancy jewelry similar to what Ushijima's mother would wear. 

Glittering red amulets hung from his ears, heavy enough to pull on his lobes and occasionally if he was feeling particularly confident that day, a heavy necklace of thickly adorned diamonds that his sister may have worn in the past but had gotten bored of as she grew older. Otherwise, he'd don a thin necklace more conspicuous so as to not bother his father. At least this was what Leon and Shirabu had told him over the years from what Iwaizumi, Oikawa's personal guard had mentioned in passing to them. 

It was also common for Seijoh's people to dress their bodies completely and show the least amount of skin as possible. Their women wore long sleeved dresses with high collared necks, even the King's bed partner, and their men buttoned their clothing to the greatest degree and layered with thick leather padding for warmth and to use as protective wear in battle.

In Shiratorizawa's warmer weather the men did not loosen any of their simple white shirt collars, nor did Oikawa despite the sheen of sweat along his forehead. His frilly collared shirt covered practically all of his neck and the amount of patterned buttons on his vest was ridiculous to the more comforting clothes that Shiratorizawa's people regularly wore. Though, Ushijima supposed the beauty in its artistic intricacy was worth mentioning. On this day of visit, Oikawa wore those heavy amulet earrings and a sea green ensemble. He also clearly recognized the thicker necklace clutched around his skinny neck like a giant shiny claw. So he must have been provoking his father this time, Ushijima guessed.

Iwaizumi stood no further than two feet by Prince Oikawa's side as was his job, but Oikawa treated him as he would a close friend whenever the guard was within speaking distance and added him into conversations whenever Ushijima spoke to Oikawa. So if one spoke to Oikawa, one would end up speaking to Iwaizumi the moment the conversation began. 

Iwaizumi wore the thick leather clothing characteristic of Seijoh's warriors. In fact though Ushijima never realized as a younger teen due to his lack of care for clothing, the other men generally did not dress as fancy as Oikawa did, who seemed to wear his richness on his sleeves. Not even the King of Seijoh dressed as extravagantly. The other Seijoh noblemen he had met in the past wore more humble robes, simple despite covering most of their skin, but easy to maneuver and travel in due to how far away their city of Aobajousai was. Oikawa was the exception with his brighter colours and glittering jewelry more characteristic to what the women would wear when they visited. 

Of course, the moment Oikawa Tooru opened his mouth, others crinkled their eyebrows in displeasure at the complaints thrown about. Iwaizumi muttered something in the teenager's ear, but the Prince waved him off. Ushijima could see a large vein protruding from Iwaizumi’s forehead behind Oikawa’s delicately styled hair that donned his thick silver crown. 

Oikawa questioned the state of the court immediately with a quirk of his eyebrow and directed his comment to Ushijima with his nickname "Ushijima-chan", one he had given Ushijima as a perturbed child insulted by Ushijima's critiques of his sword fighting skills. 

The questioning was warranted on this occasion. Even Oikawa could sense the obvious tension amidst the workers that hustled about silently, the usual merriness common in Shiratorizawa’s people was lackluster in previous years' comparisons. To an outsider the country probably appeared to still be mourning the Knight who lost his life on a risky mission with the King who was still missing. News travelled even to the high North city of Aobajousai, so surely Prince Oikawa knew of these events and was simply rubbing salt into the recent wound by his haughty comments. Or perhaps he was attempting to lighten the mood. Ushijima was not in the mood to uncover Prince Oikawa’s strange mannerisms. 

Ushijima ignored answering the visiting Prince at all, and thus appeared annoyed to the visitors. Leon apologized on Ushijima’s behalf with a bowed head, but Oikawa said, “No worries, Leon. Ushijima is always socially inept at speaking as a human.”

And with the blatant jab at Ushijima, a sense of normalcy emerged amidst the four boys and the tension somewhat eased. Oikawa was not said to be the master at conversation for nothing. But, even the familiar biting comment from a visiting Prince meant to distract Ushijima could only briefly catch his attention, before his shoulders hunched in on themselves in uneasiness once more.

♠♠♠

At the party rumours of the curse were truly spreading as quick as wildfires catching onto a field of wheat. Now the words whispered were a twisted tune of the previous rumours. There were saying the King was killed by the Queen who set up his demise through a curse she made herself. But it had backfired and cursed her and her Kingdom’s future in the process.

Utsui was who everyone loved unconditionally. The Kingdom’s heartwarming King was gone, and did not return for a year. As a result, the prospect for the future felt very much cursed to an imminent doom. The arrival of the Oikawa’s only seemed to cement this fact, the potential for a dark war was high. Ushijima questioned if it was smart to even hold a celebration, when there doesn’t seem to be much to celebrate over. 

It had been a year since his father left. 

This fact alone was confirmation enough for the people that he would never return and died without saying goodbye to his family. Ushijima was not in a celebrating mood, especially with the words spoken in rushed breaths when his back was turned. He couldn’t enjoy a single second of the celebration and spent the majority of it avoiding conversation with young ladies vying for his offer of a dance. So Ushijima stuck to the corners of the room beside Leon and Shirabu who flanked his sides like protective mother hens watching over their baby chick. 

From across the ballroom, his eyes met Oikawa’s and if Ushijima was close to Oikawa he would’ve perhaps understood his expression to be concerned, but from the distance Oikawa simply blinked at him and turned around, his thin back all he could see. In Ushijima’s eyes it was a dismissal, if he saw any. 

The Queen’s refusal to appear at her son’s birthday celebration and without the acknowledgement of Utsui’s missing status, the rumours continued to fester within the castle’s walls and spread outside of them in no time at all.

♠♠♠

The Oikawa family left promptly the morning after the party’s celebration. To the outside citizens, it appeared they were in a rush to leave. For once, Oikawa’s eyes were not quite as judgemental, but Ushijima didn't notice too caught up in the thought of the Kingdom’s painful words against his family.

Whatever the Ushijima family had done, it seemed the world had no remorse in delivering their warped form of justice as retribution.

♠♠♠

That September, Hana took control over the castle completely, now that his mother’s condition worsened to the extent of bedrest. She fluttered around in her yellow dress with a look akin to someone about to partake in a war, her eyes serious in every statement she spoke. Noriko's younger sister assigned responsibilities and led everyone as confidently as the Queen had previously. She may not have been as experienced but the stability was welcomed by everyone in the castle. She reassured the castle residents with the calm and assured tone of her voice, without a single crack in her facade. For surely, the potential death of her sister was burdening her mind.

She told Ushijima one day, “You have to prepare to ascend the throne.” 

Ushijima widened his eyes and she continued, “Your mother has ordered it to her court. Her words are law.” Ushijima knew that this had to be done because they could not trust his Uncle Katsurou with the power of being the King. Wakatoshi truly was the only option left for their country’s future survival. 

Other than Wakatoshi himself, Noriko’s lover, Sir Ida, was hurt the hardest at the sight of her deteriorating. He sat by her bedside for long hours, unwilling to leave. Ushijima followed his mother’s last wishes of getting lost in his work. He didn’t leave his mother’s study for hours, well he supposed it had become his study over the course of the last month. 

Hayato delivered him three new books for him to read which he delivered straight from the library as Ushijima requested as a favour, too absorbed in his current reading material. 

“Maybe you should”–

“No, I'm working. Hayato-san, you can go.” He turned another page of his book, eye fluttering over the inked letters like a bird. Hayato closed the door quietly behind him on his way out, unwilling to bother the Prince so adamant to continue preparing for the worst outcome possible.

He lost his last days with his mother. He refused to believe that he gave up that precious time for nothing. His mom wouldn’t want him to see her like that anyways; the slow descent into a state she’d never allow herself to appear in front of him. His eyes teared up at the memory of those calloused hands soothing his clasped fingers when he stood before the same desk he was currently hunched over. He hadn’t known then, how lucky he was. To have her around, to have her to speak to, to chuckle and laugh with. He blinked back the tears but a few scattered across the tiny letters on the page now smudging the words together so they became unrecognizable. 

On Ushijima's eighteenth birthday, his mother was unable to wake from a deep sleep, and he was crowned King of Shiratorizawa. The cheers were raucous against his ears. Any ruler would be a step up from the previous one, in the people’s eyes Ushijima thought.

After the crowning, he sat on his throne, the crown over his head heavy. Hana stood by his side, a tiny reassurance in his shocked half-numb state.

“Auntie Hana. It must be a curse,” he said as he tightly clasped his hands together. “It happened today out of all the days.”

She gently placed her fingers onto his shoulder. They were not calloused at all and this thought stung in echoes as he stared at the hustle and bustle below him of the noble Court of Shiratorizawa now ready for him to take control over. To lead. They stood together in silence because Hana’s mouth was unable to push out any words to quell the sorrow burrowed in Ushijima’s heart. She didn’t offer an apology.

Her presence by his side was simultaneously enough and not quite who he wanted to be standing with at that time. But his father would not walk over those green hills anytime soon and his mother would not blink open her eyes, for their family was cursed to this tortuous outcome.

♠♠♠

After his crowning, autumn began to emerge and the Queen slept, unbothered by the passing of time. Frozen in a strange state of limbo, not dead but not alive. She didn’t speak.

For her son, she was basically gone. Ushijima thought she was cursed and that Shiratorizawa was doomed, but he’ll delay the inevitable to the best of his abilities. 

An unwakeable future, the Doctors called it at that time, and eighteen year old Ushijima had no faith his mother could wake when it was clear no treatment from Doctors had any affect. They waited for her inevitable death that never came, she was cursed to suffer endlessly, to sleep and to never wake from the sunken eyed and thin limbed life on a bed. Her muscles were gone, and only bony limbs remained. The sight of her horrified him. It was no surprise to find his mother’s lover, Sir Ida hung from a beam in their shared room while she still lay unwaking in the infirmary. 

People said it was the curse moving on to its source, the adultery and snuffing it out forcefully. Others said it was gods’ retribution for his sins. Ushijima thought the man was depressed and unwilling to live without his mother and he regretted that he was too occupied to notice the state the man was in. The man wasn’t extraverted as Ushjima's father was, Ida was soft spoken and kept to himself. A blow as bad as this was far too harsh on such noble privileged skin. His family of course disowned him after the news arrived of his state so he lost his surname and in Noriko’s honour Ushijima gave the man his mother's last name because he knew that was what his mother would do. An action to sate the man’s spirit so that if it lingered his spirit would know he got close enough to his mom to acquire her last name. 

A feat Ushijima’s father never reached, though Ushijima believed both those loves were equally as all-consuming. Neither was less valued than another. Ushijima knew his mother would wholeheartedly agree to his decision, and so Ushijima mourned for his mother. Because she wasn’t awake to mourn her love’s death he would do it in her place.

♠♠♠

Did he regret the days and nights spent bent over desks or training against fellow Knights? He didn't know if he would change his decision, it could’ve been that decision which allowed his status as King to be a smooth process. Outside the castle walls, the queen was practically dead to them, and won’t ever return. So to prepare to ascend the throne was the only choice he could make that honoured her intentions for Wakatoshi’s future and for Shiratorzawa’s future. Not as noticeably, between the walls of the castle and amidst those who knew Noriko personally and trusted her, there was always the hope her curse would fade and her eyes would open. That she will wake and rule Shiratorizawa once more.

So when two years later, a twenty year old Ushijima found a miracle offered up to him on a silver platter his heart stuttered and his eyes gleamed. Finally, his answer appeared before him. 

A dragon person, Tendou Satori, was gifted to him by a fellow King. Fate was on his side and for the first time in years, Ushijima naively thought for a second that whatever curse plagued his family could be broken through a lucky miracle orchestrated by a magical dragon. 

Surely, that was the story they would want Wakatoshi to tell? His mother knew many stories, foretold over years of Princes and Princesses in love, of Kings who lied after losing a war and of Queens who died but won the battle for her people. Noriko loved stories such as those. He remembered the tales because she retold them so many times as she brushed his hair from his sleep-warm forehead above the rumpled pillows. 

His mother spoke those stories back then, but now his own ridiculous tale was forming all on its own. He would tell her this one story once this was all over. 

Of a dragon person named Tendou Satori and a Queen who would wake from her eternal sleep. Ushijima thought it had a nice ring to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ushijima remembers his father and mother equally as fondly but he also prioritizes the positive memories he has of both of them rather than the what his mom and to a much smaller extent, his father, taught him growing up of what is required of a King or Queen (what is required of a leader). which is why Ushijima attempts to maintain a stoic and cold impersonal attitude similar to his mother at times and longs to be as open as his dad is with people. It was very hard to write this flashback chapter due to the long time that passes over ushijima's life and also that it's just NOT a good time for ushijima. the pro is at least i gotta throw in a scene of Oikawa woohoo!! i hope that lightened up the chapter a little. 
> 
> I do realize in hindsight that this flashback chapter perhaps should have been placed later on in this fic to extend the suspense of what happened to Ushijima but honestly I'd prefer you all to know why Ushijima is so very desperate to get Tendou to Shiratorizawa. The Queen's state is basically his major character motivation for this fic in general! Tell me your thoughts on this chapter, i know it is a beast to read through and is likely overwhelming, but i needed to write it all down in this one chapter to paint you guys the picture of Shiratorizawa's current state~ 
> 
> you all don't realize how much i miss writing Tendou like i needed his snarky remarks but because this was a flashback chapter i couldn't have him around; I can't wait to write the next chapter i missed him so much!! also because the haikyuu manga recently ended I miss all these characters in general, so writing about them truly keeps my chin up!


End file.
